


Ruled by Secrecy

by BrideOfBronn (SilkCut)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Crack Pairing, F/M, Smut, actual romance will blossom, developmental relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 17:04:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 49,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6384943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilkCut/pseuds/BrideOfBronn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cersei Lannister has began to strongly dislike the sellsword Bronn after buying him off from her brother. But in his company, she may have started to play a more dangerous game than she could ever imagine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My very first fanfiction for ASoIaF written back in 2011 and was written for my friend Elena. It centers on our crack ship Cersei Lannister and Bronn. This is truly an odd pairing, but I'm happy to say that I've enjoyed exploring the possibilities in making this work. They're both very ambitious and ruthless and I think that these qualities will have a push-and-pull effect is a romantic/sexual attraction comes into play. Their dynamics have so much tension and room for evolution :)
> 
> If you stumbled upon this and was disgusted, baffled, flabbergasted or mystified to see an almost 50,000-word story about a pairing that will never be canon, and wondered how I even managed to write a romantic relationship between two characters who never had meaningful interactions in the books and on screen--well, all I can say is that's an understandable reaction. But bear with me, folks! Read the chapters and see for yourself how I made it work. You may even start shipping this crack pairing yourself! :)

**Chapter One: A lion's share**

* * *

 

Cersei has began to strongly dislike the imp's former pet sellsword.

All her life she was raised to treat servants in only one way and that they should be as invisible as they are dispensable. She didn't care if this lowlife called Bronn breathed and lurked around the castle halls at first—until she soon realized his real importance. Perhaps she overestimated Tyrion all this time because her brother was a fool to trust the sellsword's loyalty in the first place. She could tell Tyrion treasured his service as much as the sellsword had treasured a full purse filled with Lannister gold.

That had been the imp's undoing in the end. Cersei saw to that.

The scheme was effortlessly executed. All she had to do was to beat her brother's price and hire the sellsword into her confidence. She promised him a lordship as her father had given him a knighthood after the battle in Blackwater.

Lannisters and their debts—Cersei loved that enduring quality about the family.

The sellsword knew his place at first. From Ser Bronn to Lord Bronn, he was consistently reliable. He brazenly followed through orders that Cersei finally understood why her brother chose him in particular. However, as soon as he acquired the security of House Stokeworth, he became inclined to display disrespect—indirect as it may be—towards her.

So she called upon him to talk in her private quarters one afternoon when everyone else was at court. The Tyrells had been too hospitable with guests and Red Keep seemed like a common tavern now as oppose to a king's home. It repulsed her but she has learned to quell the rage if she wishes to keep the alliance between their families untainted.

The insolent rogue must have read that in her expression somehow. She wouldn't doubt that he did. "Throne room looks smaller every day," he remarked. "Must be the crowds. It's like a marketplace with all that noise." He stood there in freshly woven silk and velvet, a peculiar mixture of green and gray with golden cloves and strings. As handsome as his garments may be, they never lessened the unkindness of his looks. He is always shaved now but his overall gaunt appearance still manages to offend her.

Cersei coolly glided to her chair, her skirts sweeping the floor as she sat down. She didn't offer him to do the same because she knew he'd rather stand and look over her with those sneering black eyes—eyes that made him look as if he's always plotting something.

"I know you must have been fond of him," she began without preamble. The sellsword-turned-lord will pick up what she means. "But is it fitting for you to dishonor me by naming him after your bastard?" she regarded him carefully, anticipating further rudeness.

"I wanted to name him after your father but you forbade that," he answered. And then his lips formed the most disgusting smile. "Would you rather I named the boy 'Jamie'?"

Cersei did not bite back. The faint contempt she has for the sellsword-turned-lord will not get the best of her. "The damage has been inflicted," she answered ever calmly.

She has learned to mask certain feelings in her speech even as a child. "I trust the Stokeworth household must have been stressful for you to adjust in. I can overlook this…stunt of yours because I sense the difficulty in your position at hand."

He kept smiling at her. "Your concern is touching, Your Grace." He slowly approached her. "Since we are speaking of children, how fares yours?" The oakwood table is the only thing that kept his distance at a safe range. It offered her no comfort nonetheless.

"They're no concern of yours." Cersei did not enjoy talking about her children for quite some time now. She's certainly not going to talk about them with this parasite.

He still smiled. "Is that all, Your Grace?"

"Not quite." Cersei paused. She placed one hand on top of the other as she met his gaze. "You are to present yourself with the rest of your house at court tomorrow. The Tyrells wish to strengthen the bonds of small houses around King's Landing by mingling them in a masquerade in honor of the late kings." The last statement made her chest ache slightly but she maintained composure as she added. "You and your lady wife are to be seated in the main table. We should get along properly by then."

The threat was not lost to him and his smile dimmed just a little. "You are most forgiving, Your Grace." The statement dripped with all kinds of condescension.

Cersei allowed herself a small smile. "Courtesy does not suit you after all, Lord Bronn." She still held his gaze as boldly as he held hers. "You may take your leave."

 

* * *

 

Bronn had learned that when a woman like Cersei Lannister is not pleased, she retaliates in subtle ways. He did not like her as much as he did the imp (Tyrion at least made him laugh) but she was a gracious benefactor though she lets paranoia rule her sometimes.

These highborn lords and ladies play their games too freely that Bronn has navigated through their castle walls and learned exactly what the bricks are made of.

It is about time he reaps the price of such hard labor.

He doesn't mistake his sudden climb to royalty to be awarded by warm welcomes especially since it was something he earned from duplicity.

No one in the table approved of his presence tonight, that much is obvious, and they can all bugger themselves as far as Bronn is concerned.

He took the biggest share of chicken and pork and his cup had never been empty once. His wife Lollys, on the other hand, simple girl that she is, only ate the pastries and her fill of sugar made her sleepy. Her handmaidens had to escort her to the chambers and Bronn was left to ignore the rest of the royal households around him as he feasted.

The lioness had been staring intently at him for quite some time now. He returned the gaze afterwards as he finished his third bottle of wine. They were only a seat apart and he definitely shares her discomfort although it was easier for him to brush it off. He pondered if she'll engage him in small chat but conversations are truly impossible between a queen and a common sellsword. Bronn remembered that she was no queen anymore but she was still an uncommon woman nevertheless—and a real beauty of prominence and viciousness. Bronn took note that she had gained plumpness since he first saw her. But it didn't lessen the radiance of her alabaster skin or wash out the golden-woven hair.

In a loose pink bodice laced in sapphire stones, she looked almost harmless. The only distinctly Lannister about her right now is the vibrant red mask across her eyes.

An idea occurred to Bronn. He wiped his mouth at the back of his hand and placed the goblet down the table. He pushed himself off the chair and approached her.

"Honor me a dance, Your Grace?" he inquired.

All eyes in their table settled onto them. The lioness may not concern herself with the opinion of the sheep but it would be suspicious and unlady-like to refuse a lord of his standing, considering she got him the nobility in the first place.

She looked at his hand and even with the mask he could sense such strong vehemence like she saw his unwanted gesture as begging. But then her hand touched his as he expected she would; although nothing prepared him for the cool softness of her flesh. She gripped his hand first and the squeeze might as well be a slap.

"Lead the way, my lord." Cersei Lannister remarked as she stood up. She bore the kind of fierceness that intrigued him to no end.

 

* * *

 

In the old days, she would have had him killed on the spot for this mere provocation. But Cersei's position in the game has changed. She had to withdraw her cards to play it safe. He still makes her blood curdle in blind fury, however, especially since he seems to find the tension between them as some sort of entertainment. She liked nothing more than to eviscerate him with her own bare hands.

Cersei took a moment of pause. To bore such ill against a man who absolutely meant nothing to her—it would appear as if she's starting to care and think more of him than she's supposed to. It was so unpleasant to realize that she immediately had to shut off while the repellent parasite placed a steady hand on her back—right under her spine—and glided the two of them across the royal hall. As for her part, she held onto his hand, relishing on the thought of crushing his fingers. It was a saving grace that she wore a mask in her eyes. She would not let him glimpse her displeasure.

The sellsword-turned-lord took his time and looked as if he was moving to a slower tune. He wore a faded brown mask, the color of earth. _And peasantry,_ she thought slyly.

"You amaze me, Lord Bronn," she spoke up.

"Amazed that I can dance?"

"No," Cersei pierced her masked gaze through him. "Anyone can dance, wealthy and shitty alike." Her coarse language took her aback but she didn't let it show.

Bronn snorted a laugh.

She regarded him with a lazy smile. "What I mean is that I'm amazed that you were audacious enough to attempt another injure to my honor."

"All this talk about honor," he replied. "You put too much value in it."

She would've said something again but he twirled her around in an instant. And then he twirled her again. And again. The motion made her dizzy but she regained her balance. When she recovered, the parasite had pulled her very close to him that their torsos are rubbing against each other. She wanted to throw up. He reeks of wine and blood and it reminded her of a black-bearded, mighty fool she almost loved once.

Cersei was not going to push him away, however, because the hall was filled with so many couples and she did not want to draw any more attention. Instead she leaned even closer to him and whispered. "You dance like you wield a sword."

She dug her fingernails on his palm and clutched the collar of his velvet robe with the other hand. "You go for the kill just to defend yourself."

The sellsword-turned-lord pulled his hand up her spine, his fingers lingering on its outline. He whispered back. "And what do I defend myself from right now, little lady?"

Cersei Lannister is a lot of things but she had never been "little".

The shock of the comment rendered her mute for a passing moment.

"Problem, Your Grace?" he added. "Does the expression remind you of a certain brother who still haunts your sleep?"

Before she could even consider slapping him, he was once again twirling her, like she was an instrument he was presenting around. She disengaged then. The mask can no longer hide the intensity of her rage. She could not speak for a moment, cautious of its ferocious hold on her. It only took her seconds to cool down once more.

For a while the fast beat of the music engulfed everything else and they stood there four feet away from each other; a pair of perfect strangers in a battle stance.

"Lord Bronn," she addressed him. The iciness in her words can sting any man. "You will act according to the fulfillment of our bargain whilst you comply with the demands of your lordship. It would sadden your lady wife and her mother to see you harmed for your lack of discretion. If anything else, it would present me no difficulty to strip you off your title."

He said nothing. Cersei stood very still, ready to grant her swift vengeance if he insisted on challenging her.

The sellsword-turned-lord took off his mask then and tossed it aside. The swirling motions of the couples dancing and laughing around them ceased to exist or matter for a moment. He approached. She allowed it.

His hand slowly reached up to remove her mask. She debated on pushing him away but the look in his black eyes made her froze. When he had taken it off, their gaze bore into each other and the incredible weight of it has made her very sick to the bone.

"Your Grace," he began. The parasite leaned very close that their lips were just inches away. "You are the very first woman to set me ablaze like this."

Cersei held her breath as she waited for him to close the distance further. She didn't know what she will do if he did and that frightened her. She should have a ready response at all times. Lannisters do not fear anything except maybe their own shadow.

When he did not move, she whispered. "By all means _burn_."

She quickly withdrew from him and vanished into the crowd of lovers.

 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lena Headey and Jerome Flynn were rumored to have dated each other years before... that's something to think about while reading this :p

 

**Chapter Two: Shedding skins**

* * *

 

 

Bronn did not think of Cersei Lannister for days to come since the masquerade.

He had devoted a huge amount of time improving the quality of guards in his house by doubling the sellswords working in his service. They weren't for his protection. He can still cut a man by himself without even blinking. But the additional arms appealed to his vanity. He enjoyed having the means to collect soldiers like trinkets. He can afford that extravagance. It was only when he admitted this to himself that he thought about her again.

They have been avoiding each other on purpose. When he's not summoned to court or required to attend luncheons, he simply barricades himself with the rest of his household.

His wife Lollys sleeps all day like the fat, soft-minded cow she is. Her son born out of rape is denied of milk because of this and he sobs all day if Bronn doesn't cradle him.

"You're a greedy little fuck," Bronn muttered when he finished feeding the baby with goat milk. He carried it in his arms and rocked him to sleep.

"But you are mine," he added. "I will do whatever I please with you so be a good lad and renounce your claim to House Stokeworth once I ask you to. You can be a squire to the Tyrells. I can teach you with the sword. Whatever you like, little lordling, as long as you don't step on my toes." To demonstrate, he pinched the infant's big toe.

He would talk to the boy like this as if it can understand. If anything else, it was the only real conversation Bronn has around here. He wouldn't call it loneliness but it's starting to annoy him. It has also occurred to him that staying cooped up and playing with the baby does nothing profitable for him. He might as well kill someone for fun.

He ventured out that night, carrying his sword on his belt and a dagger on his boot. The streets are dreary with fog. There were no stars and the moon was a large saucer in the sky. Bronn breathed in the pungent air and spitted it out. He made his way to Red Keep.

The castle retained a foreboding presence but it held no majestic appeal anymore especially since commoners freely flock inside its walls. The Tyrells are Southern but they have the hospitality of the free-city folk across the narrow sea. It amused Bronn to no end.

He thought about Cersei more vividly now. She's no queen but it still made her desirable. Bronn had not completely decided on how much that affected him. On a shallow level he wanted to fuck her, of course. What man in King's Landing doesn't? But there was another layer to that carnal yearning, and he is not that eager to peel off whatever it is.

Speaking of fucking, he debated on taking a detour to Chataya's first. It's been a month since his last visit after all. He watched the whorehouse for a while and decided that there could be a better time to waste his copper. He has been slowly losing his appetite for a woman's flesh. Must be that wife of his. Like he's fucking livestock when he fucks her.

Moving like a shadowcat, Bronn managed to enter the palace with little difficulty. The crowd in the throne room was beginning to disperse and he would've stayed unnoticed until Margaery Tyrell bumped into him on his way to the nearest balcony.

The brown-haired queen regent has grown more comely every time he lays eyes on her. Twice widowed had never showed in her appearance. She had a timid smile. The green specks in her brown eyes reminded him of grass blades and all the softness they promise when lied upon. The thought made Bronn cautious of his following movements. He did not want his lust to show. The girl is a maiden still, according to her chambermaids. Her first husband preferred the company of her brother Loras and Joffrey was not even given a fighting chance to take her maidenhead before he buggered off into the arms of death.

"Ser Bronn," she curtsied and then hurriedly corrected. " _Lord_ Bronn. It is pleasant for you to visit. Do you have any business with the castle?"

"Red Keep is for all now, milady." He nodded towards the crowd of merchants about to leave the main door. "These days you can just walk in and take a shit in the Iron Throne."

He was not able to hold his tongue. Manners make him uncomfortable so he did not bother emulating it. Still, it was a relief the queen regent laughed at his jest. Such sweet innocence and kindness—Cersei struggles with that kind of feminine appeal.

"You are most welcome to stay as long as you like," she batted her eyelashes at him and he would've melted at the sight of this if he was a younger man. "Have you sup yet?"

"Yes, but I could sup three times a night if you're offering that."

Margaery Tyrell showed him a more certain smile now. She placed a hand on his elbow and he took that as a sign to walk with her on the halls. She clutched his arm naturally and Bronn measured his steps to keep up with her. "Lady Olenna enjoys the company of the common folk and they love her. She's always been eccentric, my grandmother." The queen regent remarked but Bronn was distracted by the scent of her hair and neck. _I should've gone to Chataya's…_

"Lord Bronn?" They were already approaching the dining area when Ser Lancel Lannister appeared out of nowhere. The boy was still nineteen years young but he was so weathered by battle and weak nerves that he looks to be the same age as Bronn. The sword on his belt looked like it was wearing him. Being a squire suited him better.

"Ser," Margaery beamed at him. "Ask the servants to prepare an extra place for our good friend. My grandmother prefers a full table of familiar acquaintances," she tightened her clutch on Bronn as if to show Lancel that he cannot say otherwise.

The boy does not understand though. "I must inform my cousin, Her Gra—Lady Cersei." He darted a nervous glance at Bronn. "She does not like surprise visitors."

"It saddens me," Margaery Tyrell looked down and for a moment her sadness was convincing. "I've already lost her son. I cannot lose her too. But I am afraid for her. She would lock herself for days in her chambers and if she does decide to join any of us when we break fast or sup, she offers no conversations." She looked at Bronn now as if he can provide her an answer or soothe her worries. "She is a strong woman but even the strongest of us cannot bear everything without aid. Do you not agree, my lord of Stokeworth?"

Bronn shrugged his shoulders. He could feel Lancel's heavy eyes on him. "I'm sure you're trying your best, milady. But I hear time heals all wounds…" he felt fucking ridiculous.

She blinked. "But how much time does she need?" _A fair question_ , Bronn thought.

"She has lost a son. Her other children are far away too." Lancel reasoned out.

The queen regent shook her head and regained her smile. "Inform her of Lord Bronn's presence if you must. But please tell her that my dear mother and grandmother kindly request for her to dine with us tonight. It is not a command. Make sure she knows that. The invitation comes from a daughter addressed to her mother by marriage."

Lancel bowed and limped away to the other direction.

Bronn faced Margaery Tyrell, unable to hide his growing amusement. "If I may freely speak my mind, sweet lady," she nodded so he went on. "That woman will still believe you commanded her because everything asked of her that she doesn't want to do will always come off that way." He gestured to go on to the dining room but she disengaged from him.

"That woman is Cersei Lannister and she was a queen," she said sternly but not unkindly. "I know you have a unique relationship with her but you are in no position to know her better than any of us, my lord." If she did take offense, it was hard to tell because she was smiling at him again and clutching his arm. "Come, Lord Bronn. It will put my grandmother in such a mood when you tell her stories of your brave battle in Blackwater."

 

* * *

 

"She does not command me?" Cersei repeated her cousin's words—echoing the Tyrell bitch's words—and the taste was acid in her mouth. "I? Her mother by marriage?"

The last statement was true but her son is gone and Margaery meant nothing to her. But that was not the worst thing that angered her. It was that parasite again. It's been a blessed week since the masquerade. Now she could not look at him again without the strong desire to claw her eyes out. "Did he invite himself?" she asked

"It appears so," Lancel made no move to approach her when she's like this. "I was surprised to see him talking to the girl. He has no reason to be here anyway."

"Too many people have no reason to be in Red Keep and yet they are," Cersei stood up from her chair and turned her back away from her cousin. "You may leave. I will announce my presence once I'm dressed properly for this dreadful sup. Beige garments will no doubt complement the dullness of the affair." When she glanced at him, he was still standing there. "You broke some ribs and your left ankle but not lost your ears. _Leave me_."

When the boy was gone, Cersei locked the door. She removed her gown with deft hands. She has been undressing by herself because even the company of a maid preening over her every move is too much human contact for her. She took off everything, even her small clothes. Naked and chilled to the bone, she picked her most plain evening wear and put it on. The soft garment was tighter than she expected. She hissed when she heard a seam rip as she tried to pull it down. She took it off at once and grabbed the silver looking glass from her bedside table. The years had at least been compassionate to her face, but it has become apparent that the small mounds of fat in her forearms and stomach were another sort of cruelty by the gods. She has given birth to four (a stillborn, two sons and a daughter) and her body has not suffered the consequences until now. Too much time and wine in her hands and look at her, the new Robert Baratheon, too fat for her gown.

Had Jamie not already stolen away all her tears when he left her, she would've cried by now. Instead she took out one of her mother's gowns. It was laced green with a modest cleavage embroided in a thousand small rubies. The green fades into gray by the skirts. It was loose enough to accommodate a baby in the belly but you could not tell it was tailored for that at all. Cersei remembered her mother wore this when she was expecting Tyrion.

Cersei run her fingers through the garment like she was almost afraid it will cut her. Making up her mind then, she slowly put it on. The gown embraced the ugliness of her body and turned it beautiful again. She rubbed her hand on her stomach one last time and then began combing her hair. She decided to tie it into a neat bun. It will accentuate her flawless neck and drew more attention to the rubies in her chest. Cersei also applied rosemary oil under her eyes and on her forehead, just to smoothen the lines of her age.

Far from satisfied, Cersei left her chamber and silently walked to the dining area. She crossed the threshold leading to the throne room but she never once looked at it.

When she entered, everyone at the table stood up to greet her. There was Lady Olenna at the very foot of the table, a silver-haired doll they call the Queen of Thorns. Beside her was her daughter Lady Alerie whose soft-spoken ways always bothered Cersei. And next to the empty seat where she's supposed to take was Margaery, dressed in a luscious yellow gown that screamed her youth and beauty. She beamed at Cersei and it blinded her. Her cousin Lancel and even that eunuch Varys were present and they sat across Margaery.

"My ladies of the court, forgive my tardiness," she began but Lady Olenna dismissed her by a wave of the hand. Cersei took her place beside the now queen regent. She did not realize that the parasite was seated on the other foot of the table until she sat down, and when she met his devastating gaze, she did not allow it to linger for long.

It was fortunate that Margaery was eager to attempt small chat with her as Lady Olenna addressed everyone else at the table with her booming voice that defied the frailty of her looks. "Come, Lord Bronn, tell us more about the siege of ships and Renly's ghost!"

"Gladly," the parasite spoke up. He was about to continue when Varys interrupted.

"Beg pardons," the bald eunuch said. "But I do not think the conversation will please the Lady Cersei. And haven't we all grown tired of the tales and wars of kings?"

"Do you not want to reminisce your father's crowning glory in that battle, my dear?" Lady Olenna asked Cersei. "It's quite an enchanting narrative our Lord Bronn had told us."

"Lord Bronn must be a remarkable storyteller, I am sure," Cersei readily replied.

"He is very gallant," Margaery added. "Your father knighted him for such display of bravery and strength. I should like to see him joust soon enough."

That put an unexpected smile in Cersei's lips. She cannot help herself. "And have you jousted before, my lord?" she risked a glance in his way.

"You know I have not, Your Grace." The parasite smirked.

Cersei could feel Varys smile as her cousin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. She was no longer queen and yet the parasite insisted on the wrong address.

The Tyrell women did not seem to mind it. Margaery jumped in for another comment. "You are skilled with the blade. Surely jousting will be child's play for you, my lord of Stokeworth." Cersei did not have to look at the stupid child to see her sparkle. The way she keeps dangling his title—a lordship Cersei has given herself—hinted something else.

"How is your wife?" Lady Alerie spoke this time. "And your son?"

"Lollys and Tyrion are in good health."

Margaery giggled. "I have heard stories about your friendship with Lord Tyrion."

"Purely a business association," the parasite answered. "The Imp had no friends."

"Lord Bronn used to be a sellsword of massive means and skills, everyone knows that, milady," Varys added. "He was employed by Lord Tyrion to be the captain of his personal guard and he has done very well for himself since." He raised his goblet towards the parasite's direction. "We should all learn from his example."

Margaery raised her goblet as well, holding the parasite's gaze as she drank. Cersei inwardly rolled her eyes. If the stupid child wants to get him between her legs, she should just get on with it and spare the rest of them with this unusual torture.

"Do you like your pork, milady?" Lady Alerie has a knack for asking questions unrelated to topics at hand. Cersei is starting to like her for that.

"It's cooked beautifully," Cersei bit down the meat and savored the taste.

Lady Alerie brightened up. "I had it specially served for you."

Cersei allowed a smile. "You are most gracious."

"Cersei," her cousin finally found his tongue. "Would you like some more broiled potatoes? They're almost scarce in your plate. You must have liked them."

"Sure, love." Cersei smiled at him although she did not mean it but the way he lightened up made her slightly warm inside. He excused himself from the table so he could get the potatoes himself. Lady Olenna laughed as he left.

"Poor boy forgets he's no longer a squire!" she hooted.

"She worships Her Grace," the parasite said. Cersei flashed a glare at him and he returned it with a grin. She didn't speak or look at him again for the rest of the evening.

The supper ended on a peaceful note. Lancel retired to bed early. His left ankle still torments him and he needs to nurse it soon. Varys faded into the walls as usual. The older Tyrell women kissed Cersei on both cheeks and left her with Margaery who insisted on escorting her to her bed chamber. The parasite stayed behind as well and when he said nothing else, Margaery asked him to come with them and escort her. Is she a diminished old lady, incapable of finding her own room? Cersei swallowed her rage once more. The taste was less pleasant than the pork earlier and it settled in her stomach like a plague.

"Thank you, my lord, for a delightful sup," Margaery offered her hand to be kissed and the parasite obeyed. When he pressed his lips on her hand, Cersei shivered in disgust.

"Your Grace," the parasite approached her. Cersei did not offer her hand. She stood there with a completely blank expression in her face. He kept his distance. Margaery was behind him, waiting patiently. He whispered low so only Cersei can hear. "That gown is not like you at all. It makes me wonder if it suits a lesser woman."

Cersei did not blink when she replied. "Any woman is lesser compared to me."

When he smiled, his black eyes glinted almost as sharp as Valyrian steel. "I jest, Your Grace. You are very beautiful…" he takes her hand and it took all of her control not to hit him with the other. He pressed his lips on her knuckles. The kiss lingered for another heartbeat.

"My lord, shall we?" Margaery spoke from behind him.

The parasite looked into Cersei's eyes once more. _He wants me_ , she saw.

"Sleep well, Your Grace," he said as Margaery clutched his arm.

Cersei's smile was ice. "And you might not, Lord Bronn."

_Because now I know you want me._

 

* * *

 

She dreamt of her brothers again.

They were ten. Cersei was looking for Jamie around the gardens in Casterly Rock. She finally found him but he was not alone. Their younger brother Tyrion has used him as a pretend horse and the ugly little shit was riding him. The stupid smile he had on only made his face more horrible to look at. Jamie looked happy about it though.

When Jamie saw her, he got back to his feet and walked to her, clasping Tyrion's hand on his. Their brother is so tiny and will always be tiny. Jamie had asked her to play with them and she wanted to cry because ever since the imp was born, she can't have Jamie all to herself anymore. "You shouldn't be scared of him," her twin remarked.

"I am not scared of him!" she protested. But then Jamie took Tyrion in his arms and kissed him on the cheek. Tyrion wriggled in his clutch, giggling. The shrill sound made Cersei want to kick him over and over. But Jamie only kissed him on the other cheek.

"Now you kiss him," Jamie grinned as he offered their brother to her.

Cersei found a blade somehow and she stabbed the imp with it. Only it was Jamie. He had put himself between them and the blood didn't stop pouring out of him. She could hear Tyrion saying, "Your joy has now turned to ashes in your mouth, sweet sister."

She bolted up from the bed, wide awake. But she wouldn't cry. She never cried.

 

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to believe that I'm not the only one who ships Cersei and Bronn. This chapter is slightly RATED M.

 

**Chapter Three: Violence in the heart**

* * *

 

 

Lollys found the common sense to nurse her son at last.

She was on the bed with Tyrion while Bronn sat near the large window. He pulled the maroon curtains away so he could glance outside the grim cobblestones and filth of his estate. Only that it wasn't really his estate. His wife isn't the heiress. It was her older sister Falyse, and the true Lord of Stokeworth is her husband Balman Byrch. But that didn't discourage Bronn in ruling over the household when the couple would travel east for leisure.

Margaery Tyrell thought he is doing a fantastic job. She had said so herself last night. Bronn wondered if the young queen regent ever entertained suitors after her husband's demise. He wondered if the girl even realized that she is well loved by the people in the city and she can have everything she wants and anyone she desired.

_So why does she covet me when there's plenty of other better fish?_

"Bread," Lollys called at him. "Boy needs bread."

"He's a babe," Bronn answered. "He can't eat anything. He needs your milk."

His wife puts the baby on the pillows and crawled towards him. He watched her as she got close. Lollys placed her weight on her elbows as she leaned on his lap. She looked up at him with those dumb blue eyes and her mouth half-open.

He smirked. "If you're trying to seduce me to bed, wife, this is not the way to do it."

Lollys just blinked. She didn't get that. She didn't get anything. This was the only unfortunate thing when he accepted this arrangement. He may have lordship now, guards to train and a household to lord over but the woman who warms his bed doesn't even know exactly how to do that aside from spreading her legs. At least whores make better company. It has been fine with Bronn at first but Lollys has a child's mind. He knew he's going to have to raise Tyrion too and he can't imagine himself being a father. It's not even his damn kid. But this is a choice he has to live with now—unless there's a better offer.

 _And Margaery Tyrell is a better offer?_ Bronn didn't think so.

"Kiss me," Lollys looked up at him. Bronn pressed his lips against hers and cupped her big teats for consolation. Still mulling over the strange shift of politics in Westeros, Bronn thought about Cersei again. The debts of House Lannister have finally caught up with her.

 _She's all alone,_ Bronn thought. _The Tyrells keep her in their cage but they are a thousand times more merciful to her than she was to Sansa Stark._

Lollys laughed without grace or restraint as Bronn kept squeezing her teats. He then unlaced his breeches and had her sit on his lap. She was really quite heavy and his thighs would go numb in this uncomfortable position. But he knew that as dumb as she is, Lollys still has the normal urges of a woman and he had to appease them once in a while even if it's the last thing he wants to do. He allowed his mind to drift back as she moved clumsily on top of him. He thought about the prospect of having Margaery Tyrell the next time she gets too close to him again. He knew she'd be open to it. The girl has been wedded twice and has yet to be bedded. He can see how eager she is to have her petals plucked.

But then again she's a noblewoman and he has to marry her first before he even gets a chance to taste the nectar. He decided to forget about it. Lollys should be enough and right now she's learning, and it was worth the bruises on his thighs later.

 

* * *

 

He was summoned to court that afternoon. It was no surprise that Margaery Tyrell requested his company. What surprised him was that Cersei joined them—or rather she had also been summoned by her daughter-in-law and she cannot turn the girl down, not after everything the Tyrells have done for her. Margaery claimed her and has protected her since.

The three of them had a luncheon in one of the larger balconies of the castle. Margaery had prepared the most generous amount of food and Bronn consumed everything in the table as long as his stomach can allow it. He didn't see the need to fake propriety in front of the women especially now that he's sure nothing he does will ever offend Margaery. The same can't be said for Cersei, on the other hand, but Bronn enjoys yanking her tail.

Still, he's never had to talk to women before without getting in bed with them first. He certainly has nothing in common with these noblewomen either. Bronn stuffed himself with more food as he waited for them to initiate the conversation.

"I hope I do not keep you from your wife so much, my good lord." Margaery said. "It's just that I grew weary of the company of women sometimes and my brothers do not visit me lately." She brushed a strand of brown hair behind her ear. "I truly do not mean to impose—"

"Not at all, my lady," Bronn helped himself with another wing of chicken. "Lollys usually loves her naps around this time of the day. Tyrion too. He likes to sleep, that one."

He enjoyed saying that bastard's name in front of Cersei. She doesn't show it but he knows she would like to stab him with her fork right now.

Margaery took a slice from her cake. She placed it in her mouth as she kept their eyes locked. Bronn smirked at her. She wasn't really seductive but she's not subtle either. He wondered what Cersei makes of this. He risked a glance at her and he found the lioness pouring herself another red. That would be her sixth cup and only an hour has passed. He watched her more closely than before, unable to deny that he was enticed by her silence as much as he loathed her non-response.

Her disinterest means she is paying attention. But just because she wishes to pretend he doesn't exist doesn't mean he would play that card as well. He decided to talk to her. "I've heard that you like to watch the guards practice their swordplay, Your Grace."

Margaery seemed determined to keep his attention to herself so she answered for Cersei. "She doesn't have much to do around here. I suggested we do needlework together but she refused me all the time." She chuckled, placing her hand on top of the older woman.

Cersei kept her face straight. "Swordplay reminds me of the old days."

"What of the old days, my lady?" It was Margaery who asked now.

"The days back home when my father and brother would practice together and you can hear the steel clashing with each other everywhere." Cersei almost sounded dreamy as she talked. "They enjoyed those moments, and even if that excluded me because I was not allowed to hold a sword, it still pleased me to see them happy."

Bronn watched her face the whole time. Margaery may be younger, more spirited and welcoming but Cersei Lannister is still the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. He found himself speaking without realizing it. "You can watch me train the guards if the music of the blades makes you happy, Your Grace."

"Isn't that thoughtful…" Cersei took another sip from her goblet.

Margaery will no doubt want to come as well but then Cersei spoke up before she did and asked Bronn. "Perhaps tonight? I know you train your guardsmen until dark."

"I would be honored." Bronn grinned at her. He looked at the younger girl and asked. "And you, my lady? Got any time to spare?"

"My good lord and lady," Margaery look disappointed. "I must decline the invitation, I'm afraid. My mother wishes to me help her with the arrangements for the next ball."

"Another ball?" Bronn chuckled. "You lovely lot love your parties."

"It keeps the people's spirits up and the peace," Margaery felt wounded. "It is our duty to make sure they get the best treatment, after everything they had to through…all those wars…" she gave Cersei's hand a squeeze. Bronn thought that it was as if to say that the Lannisters are the sole people to blame for that. He was starting to believe Margaery may be just as cruel as any other woman without even knowing it herself.

"You're compassionate as you are beautiful, Margaery." Bronn intentionally left out an address to see how both women will react. Cersei pretty much shut herself down so her expression offered him nothing. Margaery didn't smile but the awakened passion in her eyes pierced through him and almost made his cock hard. That he did not expect. He must be careful not to rouse her with any more flatteries. He got carried away there.

"Guess that settles it," Bronn finished his cup. "I look forward to seeing you in Stokeworth, Your Grace. Shall I come by later to accompany you?"

"No, Lord Bronn." Cersei poured herself another drink. "I will come alone."

 

* * *

 

Margaery Tyrell should wed another man soon and lose that husband again. She deserves to remain a maiden unloved in her marriage bed; lest Cersei herself sells her to a pleasure house somewhere to get fucked for a clipped copper.

She had always disliked the girl but it only got worse ever since she keeps inviting the parasite into her skirts and makes Cersei watch the slow, repulsive flirtations. The parasite had finally responded and truth be told he can fuck Margaery and all the Tyrell women after that. He can fuck every noblewoman he likes as long as she did not have to bear witness.

Cersei had never been this confused in her life. On one hand she would never let the parasite near her, let alone between her legs but on the other she wanted to spite Margaery and sleep with him a few times. But Cersei no longer has that power.

She had no kind of power whatsoever now. Her children are gone, Jamie has forsaken her and her father is dead. All she has is Casterly Rock. If she marries again then her husband will acquire the one thing left to steal from her: her home.

Meanwhile a despicable scum like Bronn gets to play lord and mock her every chance he gets. She knew that he also desired her and she will use that one of these days to destroy him. She has given him power and she can take that away as well.

Cersei put on a black gown that covers everything even her neck. Black makes her look old and that's how she wanted it. She will not tempt the parasite with her body for now. She would rather see if there are other weak spots she could probe and make them bleed.

The night air was viciously cold and it made her thankful that she selected her garments well. She walked across the castle grounds for a while before she found the main gate that leads out of Red Keep. Her cousin Lancel was already there. No doubt he heard about tonight. She silenced him with a look before he could even begin to complain. On his command, the guards let her pass. It wasn't that dark around the city. There are a few people and some children from one corner to another but they did not look at her, not even if they did recognize her. It should've made Cersei angry again for she is entitled to so much more than a passing glace. But she needed to be inconspicuous for now.

She knew the way to Stokeworth so well even though she had only visited the dreary estate once. Lady Tanda Stokeworth was an old woman who was well-acquainted with the Lannisters only because she was looking for a husband to marry her daughter Lollys. Cersei answered that prayer. As she neared the entrance of the household, she slowed her stride and realized that this may have been a mistake after all. She can't possibly enjoy her stay when the host is that parasite. He wouldn't fool anyone, especially not her. But this was the first time in months that she walked out of Red Keep castle. There was nowhere else to go from here. She must adjust her temperament and put on an act just a little longer.

There were three of them who guarded the main gate and she guessed that they were sellswords. The parasite likes to surround himself with familiar people. One of the men ogled her as they let her pass but it was slightly flattering and even more so disgusting. Has she gotten desperate for attention that she would freely accept a savage's lust? Suddenly, the cold was unbearable. She rubbed her hands on her arms as she walked.

It didn't take her long to find where the guards practiced with their swords. The unmistakable shrill songs of their blades filled the air. She breathed it all in.

The parasite stood still in front of the fifty-something men in the yard. From this distance, he looked almost like her father. The resemblance wasn't anything physical (her father was blond while Bronn's hair is the blackest black she had ever seen) but it had something more to do with the way he carried himself. Like a true commander. Cersei wasn't sure how to feel about that so she willed herself not to feel anything as she watched him some more. The parasite may have known she was there all along and was just ignoring her. Or perhaps he was too consumed with the training, just like her father was when she was only a child. Tywin Lannister would not let training be derailed just so he could talk to his only daughter. It used to make Cersei ache but as she got older, it made her so proud of her father's resilience. It was something she admired and lived by for years to come.

"Your Grace," the parasite acknowledged her at last. He was in his evening wear and the fact that he was already dressed for bed somehow insulted her.

"What do you plan to do with these men?" Cersei couldn't help but ask. "Will you give them to the army after they've seasoned?" She clasped her hands together and did not look at him directly as she spoke. She would glance at some of the men.

"I don't know what to do with them and I'm in no hurry to figure out," he replied. He stood a foot from her but it still made her want to take a few steps away.

"I took you for a planner," she remarked nonchalantly.

"No, this time I just gather these men for a whim." He grinned as he watched the sight before him. "They're good to look at. It reminds me when I swordplay in groups."

Cersei was curious about his past in some way but she didn't want to ask.

"You should've worn a coat, Your Grace."

"You need to stop calling me that," she said without thinking.

A young man with a slight built managed to overpower his bigger opponent. He struck him on the underside of his armor. Cersei smiled and nodded at his direction. He nodded back. The parasite was closer now. She tried not to inhale his scent.

"I'm not sure if 'milady' suits you," he remarked.

"Margaery is Your Grace now," she retorted. "And I'm milady, whether you will have it or not. You must address me as such."

"Or else?"

She risked a glance at him. "It was not a threat."

The parasite grinned. "How about I call you milady when there are people around and I call you Your Grace again when it's just you and me. What say you?"

Cersei cocked her head to the side as she stared him down. "Must you always be so insolent?" She looked away and now folded her arms in front of her.

"How about just Cersei then?"

He was baiting her. She would not bite back.

"And you can drop the 'lord'. I'm better off just Bronn for you."

She said nothing and kept watching the pairs of swordsmen before her.

"Are you sure you're not cold, Cersei? I can get warmer garments for you."

"I'm warm enough." She didn't engage him further.

The parasite was silent for a minute. They just stood beside each other, watching the men trade blows, the comforting metallic melody filling the rest of Cersei's senses.

He spoke up again. "Why did you come?"

She looked at him but not really seeing him. It proved to be difficult with the kind of black eyes he owns. Their gazes are locked again. "You offered," she said blankly.

"You're not fooling me," he began, closing the distance between them once more.

"And why did you think I came?" she challenged.

His eyes were smiling for him instead of his lips. "If you want something, just take it."

Cersei held his gaze for a moment and then she walked off from him. When she was sure he would follow after he signaled his men to keep practicing, she hastened her steps as she crossed the threshold leading to the house. She was unfamiliar with the estate's rooms but she found a huge antique door at the end of a corridor and decided that it's perfect. She stopped there and waited for him to get close before she faced him.

He was standing far from her, not unlike their proximity when they danced in what felt like ages ago. He didn't make a move although she knew he could easily do so. The man moved like a cat and his reflexes are quicker than anyone she has ever seen.

"You're not claiming anything by being coy, Cersei."

She didn't like the sound of her name in his mouth but she decided to ignore it. "Come close," she commanded. He chuckled and stayed where he was.

She pierced her gaze through him. " _Bronn._ "

He broke into a grin now as he approached. She waited until he was near enough to take her in his arms, and when he was very close to her, it made her remember their masquerade dance. She could see that he was thinking about it too. Cersei leaned against the door since he pushed her to do so. All she could look into now were his eyes. The darkness in them didn't frighten her at all. She felt his fingers closing around the hair on her sides until he had his hands on her neck. With a single, strong pull, he rips the collar open and exposed her flesh. She balled her hands into fists and never once looked away.

The parasite leaned down and breathed against her skin. She kept her eyes fixed ahead as she felt his thumb circling around her left nipple against the layer of the clothing. She controlled the way her body responded to his touches and she didn't give any indication whether she enjoyed it or not. He took his time though. His hands were back to her neck again and he pressed hard enough to stop blood circulation. Their eyes are locked into each other again as he leaned harder against her body. His knee was between her legs now and it hurt and shamed her but she did not show it. He loosened his grip around her neck and kissed her chin. And then he kissed lower until he was kissing her above the chest.

He pulled away and clutched her waist with both hands. He yanked her closer to his body but touched his lips against hers so gently it made her want to punch him in the crotch. As if he read her thoughts, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them against the wall. He probed her with his knee again and it was so painful that Cersei stifled a scream.

He pulled his knee out at last but replaced it with his right hand. He cupped her mound and before his fingers could invade the space, Cersei instinctively tried to squeeze her thighs shut. He was stronger than she expected, of course, and kept her steady as he explored within. He pulled her long skirts up. When she felt three of his fingers wriggling inside her now, it shocked her that she was drenched, and she readily accepted the weight of his fingers. She shut her eyes for a while, trying not to fall down as he pushed deeper.

When she opened her eyes again, she looked at him defiantly. She never made a sound even if her legs felt like rubber from the way he assaulted what's between them.

He pressed his forehead against hers. Even with their mouths both open, neither of them dared for a kiss. The parasite knowingly scooped her insides with his fingers like he was trying to kill her by pleasuring her first. Cersei bit her lower lip so hard in an effort not to scream that she could taste blood. She was clutching him by neck this time. She could just strangle him right here and then but every time his fingers moved inside her she kept losing the strength to do so. Several more minutes passed before she was reduced into wheezing. Cersei still did not moan or close her eyes to let him now she's enjoying this (because her mind wasn't even if her body disagreed). She met his gaze and he looked just as detached as she is. He mocked her with his smirk and she decided to speak up.

"You finger-fuck like you're skewing me with a sword."

That earned a chuckle from him. He pushed in a fourth finger and Cersei felt herself spiraling down to madness. If that's the case, she was going to take him down with her.

She reached for his breeches and found him hard. She held on, her hand closing around him like death's claws. The parasite did groan but he repaid her by thrusting his fingers quickly that she may be bleeding in the insides by now.

Cersei will not yield. He can even scrape her cunt with a blade as long as he likes. The pain would be nothing compared to the four times she gave birth. She was already hollow there. No amount of penetration will make her scream or cry or beg for him to stop.

A few more minutes passed and the parasite let go at last. When he pulled his hand away, Cersei exhaled and her chest compressed like there were thorns lodged inside. She pulled her skirts down and rested all of her weight against the door behind as she tried to regain her breath. She was sticky with sweat (and perhaps blood) in her black garments.

"Want me to escort you back?" he spoke up as he wiped his fingers with his handkerchief. He looked at her with the most relaxed expression like nothing was amiss.

She was still out of breath so she managed a small nod.

When she tried walking, she almost tripped and he caught her in his arms and held her there for a while. She looked up at him, her vehemence more apparent now.

"Let me go," she softly murmured but her eyes burned with anger.

 _Never,_ she heard her brother's voice. Jamie surrounded her with his love it almost suffocated her. _I will kill all of them until you and I are the only people left in this world._

The parasite—this sellsword-turned-lord, this lowlife Bronn—cupped her chin and pulled her face up painfully so he could crush their mouths together. Their teeth clashed. She stopped breathing as he inhaled her in. He nibbled on her lips while she bit him just as hard. Her fingernails dug into his wrist as she remained caged in his arms.

He pulled away and released her. Cersei walked a few steps ahead, knowing that he was following behind. They left the corridors and crossed the threshold leading to the yard where the men still fought with their swords. She ignored them even when the metal stayed ringing in her ears. She didn't stop walking until she saw the distinctive iron door of the Red Keep castle. When the guards let her pass, she looked behind her at last.

Bronn wasn't there at all.

 

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we get a scene of Jerome Flynn and Lena Headey together in episode 1 of season 3! :D Beware, this chapter is sexy :p

 

**Chapter Four: Love and Consequence**

* * *

 

 

The Tyrell women had called upon Cersei the very next morning to discuss important matters. They decided to hold the meeting in one of the large balconies of the castle again.

There was abundance of food and wine, the kind of excessive sustenance that these women provide Cersei especially when they want to negotiate something with her. She had now learned to adjust with the machinations of the Tyrells, both admiring and loathing their collective wits. The table was comfortable enough although the three women decided to huddle together on one side while Cersei was on the other It gave her a chance to observe all three in this position so she didn't mind. Cersei tried to anticipate what they were going to say and do next, and she had the slightest of ideas what this was all about and which moves they're going to go for. It did not uplift her confidence, however.

Lady Olenna's only telling clue of age is her white hair but it shone like a thousand diamonds in sunlight. Her face did not have even the harshest lines of wrinkles. She was petite as ever and she sat on a high chair like a very exquisite doll. Her daughter Lady Alerie, quiet as a shadow, was fair and comely but she did not have the same radiance as her own daughter Margaery who has blossomed in every way since she arrived here. Her lavish blue gown flowed around her like petals and her brown hair fell across her arms and chest like fountains of rich chocolate. She smiled at Cersei the whole time.

The older woman that Cersei is now was nothing but a fading version of what Lannisters should be. She felt bloated in a maroon dress that was overused a million times.

Margaery spoke first. "Cersei," she began, waiting for any indication if the drop of formality will bother her. Seeing that it didn't, the young girl went on. "We are a family, are we not?" She offered to pour her a cup of wine and Cersei allowed her.

"What my sweetling means to say," Lady Olenna, the grandmother, spoke up, "is that we want what's best for you and your children."

"And by children, do you also mean Myrcella?" Cersei weighed her next words carefully. "My daughter left King's Landing weeks before the Battle in Blackwater and she has remained a Dornish ward since then." Not just a ward. Doran Martell had betrothed her to his youngest son. It was something Cersei thought she wanted, thanks to that imp's scheme, but now she was not really sure how to feel about that entire arrangement.

"We will deal with the Martells," Lady Olenna looked slightly displeased. She took a slice of bread and spread butter on it. "I know you miss your girl. I would not part with my daughter and granddaughter here for anything else in the world."

Cersei raised an eyebrow. "Do you mean to promise to get her home?"

"It won't do," Lady Olenna answered truthfully. "She is to marry that Dornish prince anyway. Oh, can you imagine? Why, the Martells will have claim to both Casterly Rock and Red Keep! And we can't have any of that. We shant!" she points the knife up.

"Unless," Cersei knew where this conversation is going, "your granddaughter and my son Tommen marry first. If they marry as soon as possible, the throne is secured."

"We are doing what's best for all of us," Lady Alerie finally said something. She placed a hand on her daughter Margaery's and sighed. She spoke again. "However, Myrcella is the next in line after Joffrey. Even if both your children marry at the same time, the throne is hers by succession, is it not?"

"But the Martells are still in Dorne and you at Red Keep," Cersei remarked.

"The rest of us are still at Highgarden, as well as your son." Lady Alerie added, her voice so soft it sounded like a soothing melody.

Cersei said nothing. She has been dreaming less about her children lately.

"We shall bring Tommen to King's Landing and make the preparations for the wedding vows and feast on the morrow. It will take the boy a month and a half to get here."

"On horseback or ship?" Cersei asked, containing the sudden joy sweeping all over her. "Both are not safe. Stannis' fleets are at sea and the Dornish armies are at land."

Lady Olenna only laughed. "Both trips will do."

"That would be impossible," Cersei felt dread stab her in the chest.

Margaery took her hand from across the table and gave it a squeeze. "You must put your faith in us. If it's your son's safety that you are concerned with—"

"Of course it's my son's safety than concerns me," she spat out and withdrew her hand. Cersei can't hide her displeasure. "How can you assure me that my boy will not suffer in the hands of pirates or Dornish archers? You might as well sign his death right here."

The three women were silent for a while. Lady Alerie looked at her in sympathy as one mother to another while Margaery can't even meet her gaze.

Lady Olenna spoke up. She was hardened like no other, not even Cersei herself. "The ship leaves on the morrow. The day after that, a league of horses will do the same."

She was at lost for a moment. "I don't see where this is going."

"You won't let me finish! Ay, you are not as bright as you may seem at times, love!" Lady Olenna chuckled. She took a cup of wine and drank it for a while. And then she went on. "We will deploy both trips and send messages through Varys' little birds. Stannis and his men will receive news that the boy is on ship from Shield Islands. They will think that the boy will be taken first to Casterly Rock. Meanwhile Doran and his men will believe him to be traveling the Kingsroad to reach here. Either way, he is not on both journeys. Now do you see? You are quick to misjudge us, little dove. We will have none of that, eh?" She pats Cersei's other hand that was still on the table. "No, we shall not!" And then she giggled.

"And how would you bring him back?" That was all she cared about right now.

Margaery beamed at her. The dread was back in Cersei's mouth.

"Lord Bronn, please join us." the young queen regent called out.

The parasite appeared from behind Cersei. He walked pass her chair, took Margaery's hand and gave it a kiss. Cersei coolly reached out for her cup of wine, trying not to look so affected. When the wine touched her lips, she almost choked it back.

"Our brave man here will smuggle your son out of Highgarden but my courtiers know about this escape and will assist him from there," Lady Olenna explained. "He has no other reinforcements, if that is your next question. In order for this to work, he must do it alone. He will take the routes that only men like him know best."

Cersei cannot even speak. Her mind refuses to understand any of this.

Lady Olenna kept talking nevertheless. "It must be inconspicuous, you see. While we give our enemies false trail to sniff, Ser Bronn will navigate the regions of Dorne with Tommen until they reach Storm's End. From there he will take the original route of Kingswood." She stopped when she saw Cersei's face now drained of color.

"You—all of you are _mad!"_ Cersei pushed herself off the table, digging her fingernails on the armrest of her chair. "You wish to entrust my only son to this, this _leech_ and take him right across enemy territory? There is nothing there but forests and marches. The Martells will hunt them down in no time!" She glared at the parasite, her rage getting stronger and dangerous. "He will never be able to keep my son safe enough to reach Storm's End!"

"My lady, please—" Margaery began but Cersei grabbed the nearest goblet and threw the wine on her face. The young queen regent let out a squeal as her mother immediately took out a handkerchief and wiped her, hushing her before she begins to cry.

"Cersei," Lady Olenna did not rise from her chair (or perhaps she couldn't) but she was able to keep Cersei from doing anything else when she called her attention. "This is no time to allow your Lannister pride to get the best of you. You are not irrational—"

"You don't know what I'm capable of," Cersei pronounced each word with every bit of venom she could master. "If you think I will let you—"

"And how will you stop me, little cub?" Lady Olenna was grinning now. "Your brother Jamie is Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and is bound to the crown. Margaery holds the crown as the king's widow is entitled to. And now she will marry your youngest and she will be queen; a better, more gracious queen that your spiteful petty self will ever be."

She took another slice of bread and began ripping it into tiny pieces, her hands steady and precise. "Tommen is in our castle and you will not get a hold of him unless we allow it. Or do you wish us to send you to the Martells so you can make peace with them and support your daughter's marriage to their inbred prince? Then make enemies of us? We are here in Red Keep not the Martells. The Iron Throne is a room away for us to take. Do you wish us enemies, love? Who protected you from the mob of peasants who wanted your head since your father's death? Who kept you alive when you should have died along with your family's shame and unpaid debts?" She took the knife and pointed it at her but not unkindly.

"I know exactly what you are capable of, Cersei," she said softly, the smile now gone but her eyes held the sharpest kind of glee. "You can roar as loud as you like but you live in the garden now with flowers like myself with thorns that will prickle you so many times every day of your life unless you learn your place and learn it quick."

With the gravity of the old woman's words, Cersei didn't notice that she was slowly sitting down. She still balled her hands into fists but she did not roar even if she wanted to. She looked at Margaery and the girl looked back, her face still lovely even in tears. Lady Alerie remained quiet as she is unmoved by all this.

Finally, Cersei looked at the parasite. He held her gaze lightly and she wished she knew what he was thinking. When she opened her mouth, the words that came out of it surprised her as well as the calmness in them. "I wish to speak with Lord Bronn alone, my ladies, if you all would be so kind."

Margaery stood up first. Lady Alerie helped Lady Olenna from her chair while the young girl approached Cersei. She kissed her in the cheek.

"We are always kind," she whispered into her ear and then she pulled herself up and smiled. _She is so beautiful_ , Cersei thought, _and I need her to fucking die over and over_ …

As soon as the Tyrell women left the balcony, Cersei did not waste her breath and asked point-blank. "What are they paying you? How much?"

"I doubt you can beat the price," the parasite smirked.

"I have no plans to do so," Cersei paused. She commanded him to come close.

The parasite was standing inches away from her now. She immediately stood up and clutched him by the collar of his gray vest and whispered. "You are taking me with you to Highgarden. If I do offer my son to these despicable weeds, I want to bleed from every cut the experience has to offer." She looked directly in his eyes and pressed herself against him.

He said nothing at first and simply brushed the stray strands of hair from her cheek. "They think you will try to escape with the boy."

"And go where? Surrender myself to the Dornish clan? I would sooner fuck a horse." She lowered her voice. "No. My son belongs to that throne. Not my daughter. Myrcella will be a Dornish wife not a queen. It is the safest for her."

"You have to ask permission from the old hag," he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. "And she will refuse. If you want your son to live, I have to go alone. And think about it, Cersei. You may be a lioness but you had never lived in a jungle."

"Nobody knows what I am capable of," Cersei disentangled herself away from him. "I will ask Lady Olenna and she will let me go." She sounded more confident than she felt.

The parasite chuckled. "The Others take you, you stupid bitch."

She was fast but he caught her wrist before she could even land the slap. He pulled her close again while his other hand gripped a fistful of her hair from the back. Cersei whimpered and cursed herself for the sudden weakness she felt with him. It took all of her mighty will to stop herself from raising her left leg and circling it around his waist. He must have read the torment in her face because he let her wrist go and slowly rubbed her left thigh through the thick skirts. She still felt it all the same. It made her eyelids flutter as he leaned his forehead against hers. Cersei wished she had a blade to his heart.

They would have kissed but they knew that Varys' little birds are still watching. She wriggled herself free and took a few steps away from him.

"I am coming with you," Cersei warned him for the last time. "And no one, not even the Tyrells or Martells, will stop me from getting my son back and sitting him on that throne."

He did not reach for her again although she ached for his rough hands and hated that she actually did. "Even if Margaery Tyrell will be his queen?" he asked.

She felt the smile in her lips. "Only by name."

 

* * *

 

Bronn returned to the Stokeworth Castle that afternoon to inform his wife about his quest for the Tyrells. He knew that his sister-in-law and her husband will return home today.

It was quite a likable opportunity then that Olenna Tyrell employed his services because he can't stand spending time with his new kin. He does not enjoy his dinners with them especially when that bastard Balman who may be decent enough with a sword but is still too predictable with his strokes. His sister-in-law Falyse despises him since the first day they met and he is slowly sharing the same sentiment. Lady Tanda, his mother-in-law, is the only one he feels certain affection for. She is always generous and lets Bronn do whatever he wants. As soon as he left Red Keep, he told her everything first. She expressed initial shock and fear about the arrangement but she cannot refuse the Tyrells, of course.

"Oh, my poor girl," she muttered, referring to Lollys. "She will miss you sorely."

"She has the babe to keep her happy," Bronn countered. "You have to watch out though and make sure she feeds him. She forgets a lot."

"I should have the cooks ready you a package of food for the road."

"Loaves of bread and fruits will do," he remarked. He thought about Cersei and added. "Throw in one of our best wine in there too." For some reason, he truly believed Cersei will come with him. That woman will find a way to make sure she does, he knows that.

He came to his wife next. Lollys was in the bed as always. Her bodice was loose around her flabby body and she snored with her mouth open. Bronn paused momentarily, wondering if he should fuck her before he leaves tonight.

Before making that decision, he walked across the bed to look at Tyrion in the crib. It was still small but his skin was smooth and milky which showed he was healthy. Bronn cautiously lifted him up and the babe didn't wake up. It snuggled into his arms though. He had no idea why he is doing this at all so he placed it back down the crib, feeling incredibly stupid. He also realized he didn't want to fuck Lollys now or perhaps ever again.

That wouldn't be a bad thing in itself because she is a lousy lay but he knew that the only way he can completely secure his place in the Stokeworth family tree is to give his wife an offspring, a huge piece of himself inside her. Lady Tanda will be pleased with that and may even let him have half of the estate that he never really liked sharing with Balman.

 _Maybe when I return_ , Bronn thought. It would give him another motivation not to get killed on his way to Highgarden and back to King's Landing. He could use that.

He went to the yard to inform some of his best guards about the new training exercises he devised. He wanted to make sure that the shits are practicing even in his absence. It was around noon when Bronn finished his preparations for the trip. He only brought one sack of food and other replenishments. He had his sharpest sword on his belt and three other blades hidden around the rest of his body. He wore black garments and a cloak for the cold. He didn't bother with an armor. He will be traveling for a month and he needs light load as much as possible. Lady Tanda insisted with a ginger balm for him to carry in case he gets wounded and needs medicinal treatment. He accepted it.

Bronn arrived to Red Keep castle an hour after. The sun was almost hanging low in the sky by then. Entering the castle grounds annoyed him a bit because scattered crowds have once again flocked the place. He saw Lancel Lannister on one side, talking with a chambermaid by the looks of it. He spotted Maester Pycelle walking with Lady Alerie.

When he reached the throne room, he was surprised to see that it was locked. It must be empty inside then. He circled the hallways for a while before he found the large room where the small council would usually meet. He crossed that and found the other doorway to the throne room. It was deserted as he thought. He walked a few more steps to get a bigger view of the Iron Throne. The swords erecting from it still look sharp and he heard that they can still cut anyone (who isn't rightful) who sits there.

"You're early, my lord." He turned around at the sound of Margaery Tyrell's voice.

"I didn't want to see my sister-in-law and her husband," he admitted. "We're doing both of us a favor, I think." He paused. "Your grandmother is with Her Grace, I suppose?"

"You always mean Cersei when you say that address," she pointed out. "It doesn't seem fair when I am the queen regent." She does look positively hurt.

Bronn watched her approach him. He spoke. "I'm sorry about what she did earlier."

"Why do you apologize for her insolence, Lord Bronn?" she had a walk of a confident woman now and it made him forget how young she truly is. _Eighteen is not so young._

When she was a few paces away from him, she stopped. She has changed her gown (which isn't surprising because it did get wet with wine). She now wore a pink one with ruffles on her neck and in the hem of her sleeves. The gown was fitted tight around her waist and it made her cleavage look all the more pleasant. He tried not to get a glimpse of it because he knew that she would notice him.

"I am to marry the boy so please make sure he is alive," she spoke differently now. "He's the only one who can give me the crown as promised by that vile mother of his."

"I didn't realize you want to be queen that bad."

She still smiled like a little girl nonetheless. "I'm a Tyrell. I grow strong when anyone least expects it." To make the point even obvious, she walked closer. They're standing only inches away now and she looked up at him with those intriguing brown eyes.

Bronn didn't look away and his gaze followed her as she climbs up the stairs towards the Iron Throne. She faced him from there, smiling before she sits down. The enormity of the throne would have swallowed her if only she didn't look so beautifully perfect in it. She looked terrifyingly at ease in her position that it made him smile against his will.

He put down the sack he carried and climbed the steps for himself. She allowed him to get close. Margaery Tyrell just waited, her eyes beckoning.

"Lord Bronn," she cooed, offering her hand, "My sweet knight of Blackwater, tell me what you think of me. I have wondered so long if you share the same dreams I have at night." When he accepted her hand, she pressed it to her cheek and sighed.

"The boy I'm to marry, he is only eight. I have to wait five more years before he warms me and I do not think I can wait so long." When she blinked, her tears eased in. "Oh, my lord of Stokeworth, it is cruel…"

She calls him lord and knight like it was supposed to move him, as if would make him swear utter loyalty to her. It didn't sit well with Bronn but she is young and beautiful and is now holding his hand against her warm skin like this. He gripped their hands together and pulled her from the throne. She immediately encircled her free arm around his back. She is shorter in this proximity, with her face buried in his chest as he cradled her waist with both hands. When he succeeded in lifting her up by cupping her arse, she had her legs wrapped around him in a heartbeat and he quickly swept her away from the throne and walked towards the nearest column instead. He chose one that's hidden in the shadows where the streaks of sunlight from the heavy-curtained windows barely touch it.

He pushed her back there and wasn't surprised when she locked her lips on his own. Bronn pushed her long skirts up. As soon as her thighs are bare, he unbuckled his belt and his sword dropped to the ground. He hurried on unlacing his breeches with her help. She was tiny in his embrace that he almost thought he could crush her. But she is stronger than she looks, he will give her that. Even when he increased the speed of his onslaughts, she would quiver once in a while but she never collapsed or asked for him to yield. She tightened her legs around his waist and held on for life. There was strain in her moans at first but as soon as she danced to his rhythm, her whimpering became more pleasant to listen to. She nibbled on his ear and murmured his name and titles, pleading for him to hold her forever, love her and no one else and _worship her_ …

Bronn felt himself nearing the end so he pulled back and managed to soil her small clothes from within her gown. Two of his fingers reach out inside her and then he puts them in his mouth, tasting fresh blood mixed in her nectar.

 _Nothing more satisfying than breaking into maids_ , he thought.

No sooner when they finished that Bronn realized the gravity of what he has done. As rewarding as it may be, this could get him killed.

Margaery Tyrell wrapped her arms around his neck and he lifted her up slightly so they could kiss. He pulled away first and was about to say something when she said. "Do not fret, my lord. The doors in both sides of the room are locked and there are no little birds to sing of our great sin. Varys adores me and I am now the keeper of his berries." She giggled.

He was still unconvinced. She smiled brightly at him and pressed her lips against his again. She pulled away. "It was unfortunate that I have to wait another month before we may have each other again. But small sacrifices should be made if I am to be queen."

Bronn still said nothing. This seems to confuse her.

"I thought you will be pleased that I offered you my maidenhead, Lord Bronn."

"Your grandmother and mother won't be. Tommen too."

"He is a child." She interjected. "And once we do our duty as man and wife in the marriage bed, he wouldn't know if I was a maid or not as long as I raise him myself and teach him about lovemaking before anyone does." She rubs her fair hands on his chest. "As for my kin, they will refuse me nothing. I am their most treasured flower after all."

Bronn removed her arms around his neck. "Whatever you say, my lady."

"Call me Margaery, sweet knight, like you had before."

He did not feel like holding her after the deed was done. Nevertheless, he whispered her name as he kissed her in the mouth. He pulled her weakly against him, inhaling the scent of her youth and deception but found himself thinking about Cersei Lannister instead.

 

* * *

 

She knew that her cousin would want to come. She can see it in his eyes as she moved above him, their thighs rubbing against each other in sweat and urgency. He was still weak from his last battle and there's always a certain frailty to the boy she did not enjoy unless for this activity alone. Cersei slammed herself against him over and over until he was biting back a scream. She run her hands on his smooth, hairless chest and imagined it was Jamie when he was fifteen, when she had first made love to him. The memory did not bring her any joy at all, not like it used to. So Cersei thought of the parasitic sellsword-turned-lord. _Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. Lord Bronn of Stokeworth._ She wanted to rip him apart.

Amazingly enough, the thought of killing the vile sellsword-turned-lord strengthened her thrusts as she leaned close to her young cousin and bit him on the neck. There was a tinge of blood in her tongue now and the heat between her legs pulsated further until it took all her iron resolve not to shout out Bronn's name when she came.

She wiped her cousin's seed from her belly and got out of bed immediately. Lancel knew that she didn't want to talk about anything so he silently got dressed and left her chambers as if he was just another gush of stale wind.

Cersei sat on the edge of the bed now, clutching one of Joffrey's loincloths. It was maroon with clasped golden hands embroided on the hem. She pulled it close to her face and inhaled. It was starting to smell less like her son and the more she tried to remember what he smelled like, the more difficult it becomes to recall everything else about him.

When Joffrey was pulled out of her, she remembered the look on Robert's face when he tried to hold the babe but the boy wouldn't stop crying. Jamie wanted to hold Joffrey then but the resemblance between them would be too suspicious so she refused. The three of them looked on Cersei as she nursed Joffrey at her breast. Robert didn't seem to feel any kind of affection for the babe ever since; perhaps because he knew without knowing that it wasn't his seed that gave it life. Jamie, on the other hand, always looked envious for all the attention Cersei gives to Joffrey. Neither of them loved her firstborn. They became fond of Myrcella and Tommen when those two grew up but it had been so different with Joffrey.

Another memory fleeted past, one where her son lay in her arms, his breath leaving him; where he raised a hand and pointed at the imp before the Stranger took him from her. _He was special,_ she defended as she sat there on the bed, _and no one understands how special he was._ The tears stung her eyes for a split second before she rubbed her fingers against her eyelids while her other hand still clutched a piece of Joffrey.

"Tommen", she whispered into the cloth as if it's a secret. She knew she could never see Myrcella again. She will never be there when her daughter had her first blood. _She's going to need me then more than anybody else,_ she wanted to scream, _but I won't get to hold her close and warn her of the pains of becoming a woman._

"Tommen," she repeated. He would be just as fair-haired as a Lannister should be and he is to wed a Tyrell scum to keep the throne. _Is he going to jump in my arms like he used to whenever he sees me coming?_ She wondered. _Sometimes I would only go to another room and he would already miss me. Does he search for me in the rooms at Highgarden every day, but finally stopped hoping he will ever find me again?_

Cersei shoved the loincloth back to her dresser and covered her face with both hands. _I must be powerful again_ , she told herself, _for the children, I must be wicked._

 

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't fret over the fact that you've began to ship them too since reading this story. Beware, sexy times for this chapter again.

 

**Chapter Five: In Pieces**

* * *

 

 

Streaks of orange and pink etched the afternoon sky with the kind of beauty that slightly made Bronn pause for contemplation. He had lain with Margaery Tyrell for the second time today since the throne room. They're now locked in one of the obscure chambers in the castle where they're certain no one will interrupt their untimely fornication. It was a dreary room with gray walls and has only one window where Bronn is intently gazing out. He was still lying on the ground with Margaery with their clothes underneath them for warmth. Her head rested on his chest as she softly snored.

He pushed her away as gently as he could so he could sit up. He pulled up his breeches and knotted them. He went for his boots next.

The queen regent stirred awake. "Is it time for you to leave?" she rubbed a hand on her eyes and yawned. She began to sit up as well but didn't bother to get dressed.

"Thousands leagues to Highgarden," he answered, "and with treacherous pathways."

"I'll pray to the gods of old and new that you return safely with my child-king," she reached for the front of his breeches and lazily rubbed him there.

"I'll keep Tommen Baratheon alive long enough for you to fuck."

Margaery Tyrell smiled her sweetest smiles and pecked his cheek. "I will bear him as many children required but know for certain that everything else I am belongs to you."

Bronn snorted a laugh and cupped one of her breasts. They were not as lumpy as his wife Lollys' but he appreciated the modest weight in his hand. "Don't limit yourself, girl. You are free to spread your legs for any dashing knight and lord in all of seven kingdoms."

If the comment wounded her pride or honor, she did not show it. "I only want you," she whispered into his lips before she kissed him again. The tenderness of the kiss irritated Bronn so he grabbed her by the back of her head and shoved his tongue in.

Margaery squirmed in his grasp which he thoroughly enjoyed more than anything. Her infatuation with him appealed to his vanity but other than the attention, he realized he cared little about her person. She's a pretty wench but she was no Cersei Lannister.

He pushed Margaery back into the ground and pulled her legs to his shoulders so he could fuck her while his mind raced with thoughts about having Cersei someday. He didn't just want Cersei's body—he wanted to imprison her mind and toy with her spirit, knowing that she will only bend to his will but never break, knowing that she will challenge him and will try to destroy him. He can only enjoy the prospects that come with her hatred of him.

"My knight of Blackwater," Beneath him, Margaery Tyrell struggled to breathe and speak at the same time as he pounded away inside her. "My brave lord of Stokeworth…"

He squeezed her teats as he renewed the speed of his thrusts. She whimpered like a dying kitten and her moist eyes met his with a measured lust that transcended her age.

"Swear you will love and obey me," she spoke up, wheezing.

When Bronn said nothing, she sat up and surprisingly managed to push him on the ground as she climbed on top, taking control of their entangled bodies this time. He allowed her, grinning at the confidence that oozed from her as she twisted and rolled her hips. He was groaning from her movements before he could even help himself. "Swear it, my black-hearted knight, my duplicitous lord of shit!" she pressed on.

Bronn let out a breathless chuckle but still didn't give in to her command. And then Margaery Tyrell pulled his cock out of her and squeezed it around her fist. Bronn grabbed her wrist but she didn't wrench her hand away. "Swear to love and obey me!"

"You're fucking mad, Maggie," he spat out and grinned at her determination.

She smiled as well and it was a smile that reminded him that she was a thorny, conniving she-monster like the rest of her clan is and she has his manhood in her hand.

"I do not love," Bronn responded at last. "And my obedience is bought."

Margaery Tyrell watched him with razor-sharp intensity.

"But you already know that," he went on. "If I was any other boring knight or lord of some lowly house, you wouldn't be sitting on top of me and threatening to rip my cock out."

She loosened her grip on his manhood and smiled the girlish smile he recognized. "I will make you love me, Lord Bronn. You'll see."

Bronn pried her hand away and carried her off as he stood up. He slammed her against the wall and buried his cock inside her once more. She gasped out and shut her eyes tightly, her fingernails digging into his collarbone. He thrust with an agonizing speed and harshness, suddenly aware that he is paying a higher bargain than he thought. "I do not love," he slowed down his thrusts and whispered into her ear. "But if you name a price I cannot resist then perhaps I just might."

"My knight of Blackwater," Margaery responded, embracing him like it was the last thing she will ever do. She met his unflinching gaze. "Lord of Stokeworth and bearer of my heart, you are a fool. Don't you see that I am the very price you can never resist?"

 

* * *

 

Cersei knew the kind of influence she has on men. She might have loved only Jamie (and almost loved Robert) but she has also learned that she can use her beauty as a weapon and the disillusion of love from her is quite the poison. Weaker men have fallen on their knees just to have her and this worked to her advantage before the Tyrell women put a stop to it. They dispatched her personal guards, the Kettleback brothers, and were merciful enough to spare Lancel (whom they've suspected was her bedmate and did not care). As much as Cersei can weave men under a spell, her charms do not work on women who are like her in so many ways. The Queen of Thorns and that insipid granddaughter of hers tend to dismiss her like she was a common whore they find amusing to keep around.

But not Lady Alerie.

Cersei had long sensed that the woman does not concern herself with the workings of the palace, nor has she ever expressed any political motivations. She kept to herself like an impenetrable fortress of silence beside Lady Olenna and Margaery, and only meets Cersei's gaze when she has something to say—if she has anything to say at all.

Perhaps she could appeal to the woman's maternal instinct? Cersei was only half-certain that she could persuade Lady Alerie. She had never been alone with her before but now she found the perfect opportunity because Lady Olenna is holding a small council meeting today and Margaery seemed to be locked in her chamber. By Cersei's order, Lancel asked for Lady Alerie to meet her in the gardens outside Red Keep.

The afternoon sun was unkind but Cersei still waited, hoping her invitation would not be revoked. As she stood there in her plainest gown, she found herself looking at the flowers in the garden and realized that they have been taken well care of more than she remembered. She smirked, realizing that it is only proper for the Tyrells to have a bountiful garden, considering a flower is the sigil of their house. Cersei found the most alluring set of white roses in the corner and was almost tempted to reach for one and put it in her hair. Utter nonsense, of course. A woman her age should not indulge such childish longings.

"I hope this isn't a trickery of yours, my lady Cersei."

She turned around and met Lady Alerie's eyes. There is softness in them that contradicted her Tyrell nature. It somehow made Cersei more comfortable to talk.

"No tricks," Cersei clarified. She approached just near enough but kept her distance. "I'm pleased you came. I…I have always wondered how you feel about me."

Lady Alerie simply stared, her hands clasped together in a relaxed manner.

"May I be frank, my lady?"

"I don't expect you to hold your tongue now."

Cersei allowed herself a smile. "I knew that whatever kindness your family has demonstrated is nothing more but part of another elaborate scheme. The Tyrells are cunning and have every right to enjoy the spoils of the war. It does not, however, tarnish my own family's legacy. My father and brothers may have gone but I lingered."

"Your brother Jamie did not leave," Lady Alerie pointed out. "He still serves the Kingsguard ever so faithfully. The difference now is that he only left your side to serve my daughter's." She still held Cersei's gaze gently but the weight of her words is unmistakable.

"Yes," Cersei did not show how much that affected her. "He and I have not spoken since then. I do not hold that against your daughter."

"Is this you being frank?" Lady Alerie regarded her curiously. She unclasped her hands and brushed a strand of ashen brown hair from her forehead where the humid wind blew it. "You have been seething for so long, my lady. I do not hold _that_ against you."

"Then you can understand," Cersei risked a step closer.

Lady Alerie never once stopped looking into her eyes. "You are the last of your kind, my dear Cersei, and I regret that you are one of the spoils of war we are feasting on."

"I am not the last," Cersei answered more truthfully now.

"Ah yes," Lady Alerie closed her eyes and then opened them again. "The children."

"I want to come with Lord Bronn," Cersei didn't see any reason not to open with this now. "I seek your help to bring this proposition to your mother. I would beg on my knees and kiss her feet if I have to—if that is what it takes to see my son safe."

"You do not trust Lord Bronn?"

The question shook Cersei to her core and it almost slipped in her expression. She kept it in and replied. "I do not and will never have a reason to."

"Yet you gave him lordship."

"A bargaining chip, nothing more."

"So he could betray your brother Tyrion?"

"His services are for sale," Cersei sounded defensive. "There was no intimate relationship or love between Bronn and Tyrion and therefore it is not a betrayal."

"You ought to stay here," the other woman interjected. "My mother wishes to have you marry my other son, Willas. We do intend to extend you another kindness."

Cersei shook her head without even realizing it. "What I want now is to see Tommen."

Lady Alerie looked off for a while as she said. "You seek to move me with a mother's sentimentality, Cersei, but I have never seen you vulnerable even in this captivity. An admirable trait, but it will not inspire sympathy from me or the rest of my family."

Cersei wished the other woman will look at her again. "Do you want tears, my lady?"

"No," Lady Alerie slowly turned her eyes back to her. The softness in that empty gaze left Cersei with an awful dread at the pit of her stomach.

"Then what else is there?" Cersei's throat felt dry.

"You asked me earlier about how I feel about you."

Cersei risked another step. She doesn't know if she wants the answer or not.

"I want you to surrender," Lady Alerie said. "You still wish to defy my mother and you do not have the spirit or the resources to do so anymore. Perhaps in another lifetime when you were happier, younger and have plenty of supporters, you could've overthrown the Tyrells. But in your father's death, the Lannister name is almost ready to be put in a grave."

Cersei would not hear the rest of this yet she has to stand here and take it as it is.

Lady Alerie went on. "I speak these truths because I want you to understand that this is a battle you've lost before it's even fought. I feel sorry for you, Cersei. You are a unique woman but you have shed the last of your petals and your roots no longer have a rich soil to take its strength from."

"I have the children," Cersei whispered, almost to herself. _I don't care about the throne anymore. I don't care about the Lannister blood still screaming in my veins. I just want to see Tommen, hold him for a moment, have him love me before you enslave him and turn him against me one day._ "Please, my lady, I beseech you."

She tried to take the edge out of her voice, to swallow down the pride until she could feel it ramming against her chest. "Pay Bronn with lots of gold and lands and women and he will make sure that I will not escape with my son once I leave King's Landing. You may even order him to kill me. He will do whatever you wish for the most handsome price. He will cut my throat if that pleases you." Cersei felt the tears coming and she held them back.

The sun above them was boiling and Cersei felt it sting her eyes. Lady Alerie watched her the whole time as she spoke and her expression never changed. _She is soft like water_ , Cersei thought, _but she can crash against a rock and never get wounded._

"Leave now," Lady Alerie began.

"My lady?"

"Pack your clothes and leave with Lord Bronn now." Lady Alerie turned away from her. "I shall inform my mother. She will be more inclined to agree now that you have left."

"But she might think that I—"

"I shall tell her otherwise," Lady Alerie insisted. "Quickly, now."

Cersei stood there for a few more seconds, hoping Lady Alerie will face her but when she didn't, she decided to walk the other way as she was told to. She paused to pluck a white rose from the corner, clutching it between her fingers as she trudged away.

She could feel every part of her body tingling as she hurried with her steps. She wanted to comprehend what just happened and about to happen but all she could focus on is to see Bronn, the despicable parasite who holds her key to freedom.

Lancel was waiting near the throne room and she asked him to fetch Bronn and tell the parasite to meet her in her chambers. Once she was alone in her room, Cersei sorted out her most practical gowns and threw them into the luggage. Without thinking it, she even grabbed the dagger Jamie had gifted her on her wedding day. It was a magnificent instrument with the lion's head on its tilt. The shape of it against her palm calmed her. When she was done packing, she stripped off to wear something lighter. It was while she was tying on her faded gray boots that Bronn appeared in her doorway. She didn't acknowledge him until she asked him to carry her luggage for her. For a while Bronn didn't approach her. She snapped her head at him. "We have no time to lose."

"The thorny bitch let you come? How did you manage that?"

"It was Lady Alerie," Cersei answered and remembered the woman's eyes.

Bronn was grinning as he took the luggage on the bed. "You just couldn't stay away from me, can you?" His free hand touched her on the nape.

Cersei didn't slap him away and Bronn took this as further invitation so he lowered his hand to her chest, cupping her right breast. When he leaned down for a kiss, she stopped him with a glare. "We have no time to waste," she repeated and pushed his hand off. "I am going for my son's and not to be with you."

The words didn't sound convincing to her ears and she could see Bronn agreed.

"Yet you're going to have me anyway," he replied, still grinning like a wolf. "What is that in your hand?" He was talking about the rose.

Cersei brushed him off and went for the door but then Bronn grabbed her wrist. She managed to slam the door close just in time when he took her in his arms and clamped their mouths together. She steadied in his grip and fought for control. When they disentangled, they both struggled to breathe.

Bronn's devastating eyes remained on hers as he swooped the rose from her hand and placed it on her hair with an uncharacteristic tenderness that left her even more speechless. In that moment, she forgot who he was and what she's supposed to do.

He wasn't as affected by this ridiculously amorous moment as she was, and it occurred to her that he has no idea how dangerously irresistible he could be without even so much effort, and she will not let him know this hidden skill.

 _I'm the one who wants to toy with his emotions_ , she thought, _yet here I am being toyed with by a man who doesn't even understand the way the game is played_.

Cersei opened the door and waited for him to come outside first with her luggage. Once they were both in the hallway, she locked her chambers and kept the keys inside the pockets of her clothing. She became aware that the fabric and cut was unflattering. She wore this when she pretended to be a peasant girl during her clandestine meetings with Jamie outside the castle. She knew that these clothes will make her unrecognizable.

Bronn must have been reading her thoughts ( _how does he do that?_ ) because he was telling her, "Nothing can ever conceal your pretty hair and lovely face, not even those ugly rags." He whispered. "I would still tremble in your presence." The last remark dripped with sarcasm she is still getting accustomed to.

"I have no time to spare for your insolence."

"You should do so because we will spend weeks together from now on."

The idea appealed to her in a murderous sort of way. Cersei was glad she brought the dagger along with her. If Bronn crosses a line, she will stab him with it.

They walked to the stables and Cersei was surprised to find that Bronn had already prepared two horses. She wasted no time on getting on the horse but forgot that it has been a while since she rode and so Bronn had to help her up as she climbed. When he did, he brushed his hands on her arse and she kicked him underneath but unfortunately missed.

Bronn put her luggage on his horse. He climbed on the saddle and grinned at her. Cersei knew she hated this man and perhaps even greater than she hated Tyrion. _Yet it does not stop me from wanting him. It doesn't stop me from longing for his cock_

_…and ripping it out of him._

The dusk has spread around them while the stale air threatened to chill the rest, and Cersei wished that she had her twin by her side. She sat there on the horse, hoping that the news of her departure had reached him by now. Somehow she hoped that Lady Olenna or Margaery or anyone else will come to the stables and stop her. She has fully made up her mind to leave but for the tiniest bit of consolation, she wished that someone still wants her here, whoever that may be—but she truly wanted it to be Jamie.

Bronn didn't say anything as they remained sitting there with their horses side-by-side. She could feel the weight of his stare but she never returned it.

A few more minutes passed and her prayer was answered. The Queen of Thorns emerged with Lady Alerie, Margaery and Lancel trailing behind. The old woman had a confident gait that contradicted the smallness of her stature. She had both hands on her hips as she looked at Cersei from the horse. There were two Kingsguards who appeared as well, but neither of them were Jamie. _When was the day he stopped loving me?_ She thought bitterly, desperate to understand how it could have ever been real between them after all.

"Cersei," the Queen of Thorns spoke, her voice had an odd edge to it. "I do not want you harmed in any capacity but I can see that you have made your grave and more than ready to lie on it. My only hope now is that Lord Bronn will keep you alive long enough to give your sweet boy away." She narrowed her eyes and then broke into the most frigid smile Cersei had ever seen in anyone. "I trust you at least want to see him sitting on the throne."

"This is not a suicide mission," she answered. "I have every intention to live."

Margaery came closer to her horse and Cersei noticed something different about the way she moved. "I beg you to reconsider, my lady."

"I think not," Cersei replied, keeping her eyes locked on the queen regent. "Tell me, Your Grace, do you trust Lord Bronn?"

Margaery blinked and turned her attention to the man in question. It was a passing glance but something about it made Cersei shiver slightly. "He will not fail me, that I know."

"Then I aspire to inherit the same belief for our Lord of Stokeworth."

_Where is Jamie? How will I ever be complete again?_

"I do not wasn't to waste energy dissuading you," Lady Olenna spoke up again. She crossed her arms before her and added. "You could be marrying Willas now but instead you have the gull to pursue a more dangerous road. I pray to old gods and new that we would not lose you, Cersei. You are important to me, more than you could ever hope for."

She did not like what that statement entailed but Cersei managed a nod. "When we bring Tommen back, we shall have two weddings then for I accept my betrothal to Willas."

"She accepts..." Lady Olenna chuckled. "That is the very first smart thing you did for a long time, child." She turned to Bronn and pointed a finger at him. "Listen here, brave knight of the Blackwater. You are to do everything to ensure the safety of my wards. I do not care for the costs or the nature of such lengths as long as they arrive in King's Landing without even a single bruise. I make myself clear to you now and if you succeed, you can have any number of lands and more possessions besides gold than you never even dreamed of."

This time Cersei risked a glance at her travelling companion. The darkness in his black eyes is hypnotic to look at even in this proximity.

"I have very modest desires but I suppose my ambition exceeds them," he remarked with a smirk. When Cersei glanced back at the Tyrell women, she saw Lady Alerie's soft expression once more and the unmistakable smile of something unnamed from Margaery's face. She looked back at Bronn and saw that he was holding the young regent's gaze. _A secret is brewing between them,_ she thought. _How could I expect anything else?_

The Queen of Thorns must've noticed the exchange between the sellsword-turned-lord and her granddaughter but she did not care to address it. "Travel with a clear head, my lady." She reached a hand to touch Cersei on the ankle. "You are most my most prized."

_Jamie, please come soon and say goodbye to me._

Lady Alerie approached now and offered a square package towards Cersei. She took it and wondered what it's supposed to be when the woman spoke. "It gives one something to look forward to. Take heart in it." Cersei quickly nodded and placed the package into one of the large pockets of her raggedy garments.

_Jamie, please..._

The two Kingsguards escorted their horses until they reached the main gates.

_Now, sweet brother…_

Bronn reached for the rope in Cersei's hand to keep her horse steady as they began to leave Red Keep. She bowed her head low and hid her face in view of the peasants they passed by. _Why, Jamie…?_

The parasite moved close to her so he could whisper. "We are taking a slightly longer way. The Roseroad is preferable but very tempestuous at this hour. In three days hence we will reach Highgarden. We could just stay in the woods in the night but ride in the morns. There are small cottages on the road to stay in." He paused. "I must warn you that traveling will bring out the worst in you if you're not able to bear the perilous conditions it offers."

Cersei looked at him at last. "I am my best when tested by the worst."

"We ride until nightfall but it will be a while when we find a cozy inn," he remarked. "So we're going to have to settle in the woods. You've never been, have you?"

It annoyed her that he would ask now that he knew the answer. "I was raised at a castle and was never allowed to join my father and brother when they hunt in the forest."

Smirking, his hand slipped from the rope and on top of her hand. "But you wanted to come, didn't you?" His fingers circled on the flesh of her hand as their horses trudged along.

"I was not allowed."

"Did that ever stop you?"

Cersei shot him a look but ended up meeting his tempting gaze and it lingered there. "Never. I find ways to sneak out and follow them anyway. They never even knew."

He leaned in and murmured. "If I was one of the hill tribes in those lands, I would steal you away and savage you like no other beast has ever done."

"Haven't you tried that already?" she mocked him.

The parasite chuckled under his breath and pulled on the rope so her horse could keep up with his. "I could always let my fingers and cock do all the talking if you challenge me to prove it to you." He offered his insolent grin. "I'll be getting the chances soon enough."

"As long as there's still sleep in it for me," she replied, careful not to rouse him.

"You'll surely need it when I'm through."

She wanted to shut him up with a kiss that will make his teeth bleed but all she did was grab the rope from his hand and moved her horse a yard further away from him. Bronn snorted a laugh but did not try to catch up with her speed. He lurked like a shadow in his horse, watching her intently at her back and it sent prickling sensations in her spine.

 

* * *

 

Cold winds kept rising as the dark finally caught up with them.

Bronn let Cersei lead ahead because it makes it easier for him to scout any possible ambush if he stayed right behind her. He knew he should be focusing on where they are going but he couldn't keep himself from letting his thoughts drift away here and there especially with the queerness of their circumstances.

He had been in this road before many times and came out stronger in the end. His natural instinct about the smallest things has kept him alive for so long yet this time it seems tougher to peg what is going to happen next and what moves he should be making. He considered himself fairly calculating though most of his movements are visceral. He is always more inclined to form a defense from a measured distance than to engage in an open attack. That has always been his way of doing things. But for the past weeks since women of noble birth have entered the picture, his judgment has slightly suffered. And now he is alone with the most coveted woman in Westeros and he had no idea why that's twisting his edges when he knew that whatever kind of desire he shares with her is nothing more than a fleeting affliction. Bronn is now forced to look at the mistakes he's made since he fucked Margaery Tyrell—no, since he danced with Cersei Lannister that night.

He shouldn't have lingered around these women too much and pandered for their affections. He raised the stakes too highly when he didn't even like to play the game at all. What even made it worse is the aftermath he's undergoing now. He was never swayed by his carnal yearnings this easily but now it's getting harder to ignore. So he made a decision then; that if he does bugger himself by this lust, he should at least play it smart.

His sessions with Margaery Tyrell earlier were unable to satiate Bronn. He wanted Cersei Lannister and the pangs of hunger for her flesh have dulled his views for a moment. But he knew he had to be more alert this time. She should be the first to succumb to him and not the other way around. Bronn had been around enough women to know that they're always so ruthless especially when you attempt to bed them. What even makes this lioness exceptional is she will kill and eat him _and then maybe fuck him_. It admittedly excited Bronn.

Almost thirty miles in Roseroad, Cersei had begun to show signs of fatigue but she held out on her own quite well, which was better than Bronn expected. She never complained as they rode, never asked for a piece of bread or wine. She soldiered on like she was raised for this. It was the most amusing thing to watch. He didn't know she had so much in her and that will fortunately make his job easier to keep her pretty head on her shoulders. It would irritate Bronn if she is completely incapable for damsels in distress are not worth fighting for. This is Cersei Lannister after all and she may have reached her prime but it surely doesn't mean she could never cope with that harsh truth.

For days since he began to long for her, he can see the struggle she faced and how hard she is forcing her way through the self-doubt and rage she guarded so vigilantly inside.

Bronn also knew why she waited at the stables. It wasn't because of the Tyrells. It was because of that brother of hers she used to fuck. The Kingslayer did not even spare her time to come down his chambers and see her leave. He did find that unsettling. How could a man who has been ensnared all his life by a beautiful woman ever set himself free? Bronn himself would like to ask Jamie Lannister about that someday.

And then he might ask Cersei one day: _how can any man ever stop wanting you?_

They were riding for almost four hours now and the lioness still kept her mouth shut all the way through. Once in while she will look behind her to see if he is still following but she would not try to catch his gaze or engage him in any kind of small talk. He didn't care. All they have between them is time and they will not reach Highgarden until the week is out. It might even be another few days, going by his earlier expedition in this road before. Bronn's earlier three-day estimation is too optimistic for he knew the Roseroad isn't a walk in the park and there can be unexpected twists and turns in the forests ahead them. On the morrow they may get to cross Bitterbridge but that is if the rain won't catch up with them.

He has not told Cersei yet but Bronn never planned to follow the Roseroad until it reaches the Tyrell House. From Bitterbridge, he knew it's wise to cut to Longtable and then enter Cider Hall but that would entail them to ride forth with a few camping privileges. His goal is to reach Cockleswent where he has two or three friends who can assist him with a more concealed passage to Highgarden. The Queen of Thorns was clear on her terms after all. She wanted him to travel like a shadow from one place to another to avoid the spies from Stannis Baratheon and the Martells. He intends to do just that but the only thing he isn't sure of is Cersei's involvement. A woman of her distinction is bound to draw out scum.

She wore peasant clothes now and her hair is tied in a plain bun but this only accentuated the beauty in her face—the unblemished skin so definitive of noble birth. How could he hope to elude people when Cersei Lannister stands out naturally?

 _I should ugly her up a bit,_ Bronn considered. But would she go for that?

He also knew that his biggest obstacle is riding back to King's Landing with both mother and child and without taking the easier route which is the Kingsroad. That journey will take a month to accomplish. On the bright side, he gets to spend as much time as he can with Cersei and who's to say she won't spread her legs for him in one of those nights?

"Isn't it time to rest?" her voice broke through his chain of thoughts. She glanced his way and added. "It's hard to see now and I think it's wise that we should be making camp."

Bronn rode his horse next to her and said. "Then we should. Besides, it's a long way to travel on the morrow and you need to be getting your beauty sleep, Your Grace."

She gave him one of her glacial glares and then she looked across the wooden vastness before them and remarked. "There under those huge trees. That would acceptable. We can stay hidden from sight of whatever or whoever might dare to harm us."

"I still cannot imagine you lying on the mud, getting your pretty hair tangled."

"I do not have to," Cersei willed her horse to move to the direction she chose. "You will give me your cloak and I shall lie in it."

"With me still wearing it, I hope," he countered, "There's no point in not sharing."

Cersei glared again but she didn't seem to disagree with the notion. Bronn broke into a grin when he realized that this rare opportunity he has in his hands must be taken advantage of. With both confidence and caution, he moved his horse and followed her.

 

* * *

 

She rode her horse through the ensemble of thick, large trunks. There was an open space in the middle and a canopy of branches rested above it with its long stretch shielding the sky in view. That should be enough to keep them safe for tonight, she thought.

Cersei didn't wait for Bronn to help her get down from her horse. She tested the ground with her boots and savored the sound of things crushing underneath them. The scent of dead leaves and earth was uniquely comforting but it did little to appease her growing fears. More than anything, the darkness that encompassed this unfamiliar place frightens her. She has always been surrounded by castle walls all her life. _Love makes you brave and headstrong_ , she told herself, _and it can take you to the most ruthless lengths_.

She watched as Bronn tied their horses securely on a nearby tree. He took her luggage and his bag and walked to her direction. The very scarce streaks of light made his gaunt, pale face even more ghoulish. He was never handsome but his bone-hard and haunting features cut through this perception somehow that she finds herself unable to look away; not when those dark eyes keep reeling her in. She surmised that his effect on women in general is this grating and memorable. It sickens her that she has fallen prey.

 _But I will destroy him,_ she thought. _When I get my power back, I will take away his._

He still grinned insolently as he approached. "You can use this as your pillow." He casually tossed her luggage and she caught it, her annoyance written all over her face.

With their eyes still locked together, he took off his cloak slowly like he was putting on a show. Cersei had to turn away in disgust. He was walking close by now and when he reached her, he wrapped the cloak around her shoulders. This uncharacteristic gesture of whatever possessed affection is too much for Cersei and she felt like she's going to puke. Bronn was clearly enjoying her fast descent to demise. He rubbed his palms on her shoulders with the purpose of giving her warmth but it chilled her nonetheless. She gave every ounce of repulsion in her glare but he smirked at her this time, his black eyes glinting like a blade cutting through her as she looked on.

His hands went lower just as expected and she didn't give him time to touch her breasts again as she shoved him away from her. She dropped the cloak and luggage as she quickly turned away and walked to a tree, gathering her breath back. She feels incredibly torn between stabbing him with the dagger or ripping her clothes off and fucking him. The confusion took a hold of her that it almost suffocated her. She had never felt this stupid and impulsive and it angered her that she should feel this towards a low-born scum parasite like Bronn. _This was a mistake_ , she thought in horrible agony, _I don't know myself around him._

When she turned around again, she saw that he has already lain the cloak in the grass with her luggage and his bag beside each other.

"You're tense and wound up," he remarked. "Perhaps you should let me soothe you."

"Move away," she commanded, unable to conceal the brewing fury inside her.

"Do you always have to prolong your suffering by denying and fighting what is inevitable, Your Grace?" The parasite's words are making it harder to stay in control.

"You are to take me to my son and get us back to King's Landing," her voice trembled but she steadied her temper. "You were purchased to protect me—especially from yourself."

"You want to do this the hard way then," he said as he came closer again.

Cersei's eyes burned with rage. "If you lay your despicable hands on me—"

"Like I had the last time you willingly surrendered yourself to me?" She saw that he was also getting angry now and this shocked her. "You get on that high horse all you like, Your Grace, but don't blame me when you fall down hard. I caught you in your last fall and so I can do whatever I please with you from now on." He didn't take another step but Cersei couldn't take a step back either. They watched each other for a while.

"Don't you… _dare_ touch me _...again—_ " she can feel her will breaking as she said it.

He didn't smile anymore.

She backed away now, her arms wrapped around herself.

For a while, they stood there with the silence going back and forth between their eyes. Finally, he scoffed under his breath and began to walk away. He picked up his bag and walked away for another yard until he dropped it next to a huge rock.

"I'm staying the fuck away from you as you commanded, Your Grace." He announced. "Now get your rest and we leave at dawn. We won't stop riding until we cross Bitterbridge. I shall guard Your Grace in your slumber so you are free to bugger off now."

He sat on the rock and put his hand on the hilt of his sword. He no longer faced her but instead watched the dreary scenery before them. Meanwhile, Cersei was loss for words. She has never seen him lose his temper before and it made her… _ashamed?_ She just stood there, biting her lower lip and gripping at the side of her arms with her nails digging slightly on the flesh. Unable to stand his cold treatment, she found her voice. "Lord Bronn?"

He didn't even blink.

Cersei wanted to scream and claw her eyes out. She couldn't understand a single thing anymore and the rest of her body is conspiring against her as she marched to his direction. Her resolve has cracked and she found herself facing him, hopelessly idiotic.

She offered him no apology but instead took his hand from the hilt of his sword but he snatched it away from hers and never looked at her in the eye. Feeling utterly in pieces now, she sought for his hand again and before he could react, she placed it between her legs. There was no comprehension in her actions and she rather not think as this is happening. The parasite finally looked at her but his eyes still remained frigid as ever. His hand was not moving underneath her so Cersei took it out so she could kneel down before him. The position was so massively degrading that she forced herself to experience the rest of this like a stranger looking from the outside. Her mind was a separate entity now as she began to unlace his breeches. When she pulled his cock out, she immediately got her hand working around it as she dipped her tongue on its head.

There were no fake protestations from him and she didn't bother looking at his face to see if he was enjoying this. The evidence was in her hand and mouth after all. Yet he never made a sound and it was as if he was also as detached as she is. She didn't try to discern his taste in her tongue as she took him inside her. She tried not to inhale him as she moved mechanically underneath him.

Even when he gripped her by the back of her head, she did not dare to think about anything. She just did what she had to do, all her responses now automatic.

Before she could finish him, he pulled her away from his lap and somehow wrapped his arms around her back as he pushed her to the ground. Uncomprehending, she opened her mouth against his. She clutched him by the waist and rubbed her own hips against his body in a rhythmic motion. He kissed her on her neck and then her chest with his hands heavy on her breasts. Cersei kept her eyes shut the whole time and saw Jamie's face as it blended into Robert's and then back to Jamie's again. When he kissed her back on her mouth, she saw Tyrion and that's when she ended up biting him hard on his lower lip.

"Fuck!" he flinched away. She opened her eyes and saw that she made him bleed.

The parasite chuckled, wiping the blood that dripped to his chin. He sat up and still chuckled as he fixed his gaze on her. "There is nothing tender about you, isn't there?"

Freed from the stupefying lust, Cersei found herself again. She bolted up and grimaced with what has happened. She quickly stood up and wobbled when she did.

The parasite still looked at her, his amusement seemingly unending.

She said nothing as she walked back to where her luggage was. Cersei opened it and saw the dagger wrapped around her clothes and safely tucked in. She smirked as she let her gaze linger at it for a moment before she zipped the luggage and used it to lay her head on. She pulled the cloak close to her and faced the other way so she didn't have to see him first when she wakes up on the morrow.

"Dream of me, Your Grace…" he called out.

She closed her eyes. _And there I shall send you to your death._

 

* * *

 

He only got little sleep before he woke up with his head filled with thoughts of the lioness prowling on him like she had done earlier, catching him off-guard.

Bronn should start expecting the worst from her now especially with how amusingly duplicitous she can be. One moment she is cursing him to the gods and the next she's putting him in her mouth like she has done it a million times before.

Women of noble birth are at war with their inner whores, he thought, smiling as he lay there on the rock, his eyes fixed on the leafy sight of the sky above him. He risked a glanced at Cersei Lannister sleeping a yard away, bundled up in his cloak.

He never thought he would ever enjoy such a ridiculous torment but he is. He'd rather have her fighting him with tooth and nail as long as she gives in between breaks of her almighty rage. Bronn is reaching a point where he's certain he can read her without that much strain anymore. She's a tricky puzzle to unravel but he is getting closer…

Restless, he sat up and pulled out his sword from its sheath. He caught a glimpse of his reflection on its surface as he sharpened it with his small blade.

It was the unmistakable look of impending victory.

 

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ship will sail. Y'all just wait. The longest chapter of the fanfic so far. Good luck and happy reading!

**Chapter Six: Dark on Fire**

* * *

 

 

Bronn shook Cersei by the shoulder to rouse her from sleep. The sun hasn't fully emerged yet but they didn't have the luxury of time in this travel so it's best to keep moving as soon as the first light is upon them. He also knew he had to feed her with something other than bread and wine for today. He didn't want her starving because a woman of her birth can't possibly handle that for long. She could get sick and too weak and that will only slow them down. It will bring no joy to see her incapable for he had a strange admiration for the black steel underneath all her wiliness.

He woke her up before he can leave to hunt for a rabbit or any bird he could cook in a stew and serve her with. Cersei didn't bother sitting up but she was wide awake now and still bundled in his cloak while gazing up the sky like he didn't even exist to her. He didn't care. Her apathy is a pretension he can easily break into when the purpose serves him right. He'd rather focus on their sustenance in the meantime before they go forth riding.

The woody parts of this region reminded Bronn of the village he stayed in for almost a month. It was the very first time he stayed put in one place for so long. He didn't plan on it but it was just one of those unavoidable moments that he had to give in to if it meant keeping his life. Bronn didn't want to think more about it anymore. It was many years ago and he has learned since. All he had to now is to get farther in the present. That's what matters. And right now, he needed a fucking animal to kill.

A strange blow of the wind stopped Bronn in his tracks. He looked up the sky and knew that it could rain anytime soon. It's not always easy to tell although his years of traveling had taught him how to spot a change in weather conditions. He surmised that it could be another three hours before an actual outpour but it's really too early to tell for certain. With this in mind, Bronn hurried on. He circled around the parameter, inspecting for an open field where a stag or goat would graze. He saw a snake on the grass earlier but he decided that Cersei would not have an appetite for anything exotic so he didn't bother.

Bronn used his Kukri blade to slash through the wilderness of vines and grass that seemed to be stretching for miles. When he was almost nearing a pond, he heard a sound and stopped to listen. He peeked through and spotted a kid lapping its tongue on the water. He looked around to see if its mother was anywhere. Goats usually go in pairs.

There was no time to waste. He had always been light on his feet so he managed to approach the kid without catching its attention. It didn't take a lot of strength to subdue it. All it needed was a clean slit in the throat with his curved blade and the food is acquired.

He returned to the camp with the kid on his shoulders and the Kukri still dangling on his left hand. When he reached her, Cersei was hunched next to some branches she must have collected by herself while he was away. She was rubbing the sticks together to produce heat. He wondered how long she was doing that and couldn't help but smirk as he said. "Good to see you're not going to be completely useless."

She shot him a familiar glare. "I intend to take care of myself so you do not have to be anxious about the load. You're not going to be completely responsible for me either."

"Do you know how to start a fire, Your Grace?"

She hissed. "You're going to have to stop calling me that once we reach town."

"I have plenty of names to call you," he answered. "But I much prefer your birth name in my mouth…although, to be fair, that's not the only thing about you I want in my mouth."

"Don't you get tired sparring words with me? I imagine it's more exasperating than swordplay." Cersei wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Even in peasant clothing and her hair a mess, she is still very beautiful that he couldn't stop poking more fun at her. Her slight plumpness is also something he found quite endearing now.

"I'm enjoying myself," he placed the dead animal on the ground and sat beside her. She visibly flinched away. He ignored it and grabbed the sticks from her hands. "Try using a rock next time, Highness, it's less trouble." He demonstrated as he spoke and with a few clicks of stones against each other, the wood beneath them ignited in no time.

Without any indication of gratitude, Cersei talked instead. "My father is skilled with skinning any kind of animal. In hunting trips with Jamie, he would…" she trailed off. Bronn glanced at her but she had already turned her head to the other side. "Can you cook that fast enough?" she was quick to change the subject and he knew why.

"If you help me," Bronn answered. "But I hesitate to let you use anything sharp—"

Cersei snapped her head at him and sneered. "I very much can handle a knife."

"I wasn't questioning your willingness to hold one. Just your experience and skill."

She frowned deeper and then she raised her head an inch higher as she narrowed her eyes at him. "You'll find that I'm a fast learner with anything I set my mind to."

He grinned at her. "You said your father skins animals very well. Have you watched him do it?" He didn't wait for an answer as he stood up and walked to the nearest trees in their area. Using his Kukri, he chopped into the wood and carried two trunks that were thick and long enough to support the kid's weight. "Take the rope inside my bag," he ordered her.

They spent a few minutes securely strapping the animal first before Bronn began explaining his next directions. "We have to skin everything and then wash the meat before we cook it because we don't want you eating something dirty. Your porcelain stomach may not be able to handle it after all." She didn't say anything but the look of disdain in her face was words enough for him. He went on. "If you follow my lead perfectly, the skinning will only take two minutes. And then we chop the parts you want and wash it with wine."

"You brought wine?" That seemed to please her.

"Only the finest for the loveliest," he brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek and that displeased her. Is his touch that much of a threat to her? Or is the fact that he is a lowborn, opportunistic killer that makes her hurl? Bronn didn't know what to make of that but he takes so much glee disarming her with every careless touch here and there. Besides, if she truly hated him, then she wouldn't have let him do the things he did to her three days ago at Stokeworth castle—nor would she have done what she did to him last night. The event was still very fresh in his mind but he did not dare bring it up. Bronn intended to keep the peace between them. Harmless flirting cannot hurt him and he would never force himself against her unless he sees her taunting him with the possibility. And she had once and he knew she will come to him again. Women are always unaware of what hunger they have inside until you starved them long enough that they would be begging for him to quench it.

The animal lay upside down and the two of them worked on it for a while. Bronn had lent her a smaller blade and it surprised him that the weapon was a perfect fit inside her dainty hand especially with the way she was gliding it across the animal's fur. Her strokes were clumsy at first like she was attacking the carcass as oppose to undressing it which greatly amused him. He could see tremors in her grip so the blade would slip once or twice but as soon as he helped her steady her hand by placing his own on top of hers—something that felt awkward for the both of them, no doubt—she grew noticeably more confident.

Their eyes locked briefly but the usual animosity didn't appear in her expression like he expected. There was even a solemn resignation that was very uncharacteristic; that was not very Lannister at all. It perplexed Bronn but he decided to ignore it and focus on the job at hand. He didn't notice that they were almost half done with the kid's body now stripped of everything, and its insides dripping into their fingers. Bronn gutted the animal through its stomach and the swollen meat spilled gracelessly through the tough confines, and covered their hands with its juices. The red was a beautiful contrast against the perfection of her skin and she looked almost at ease with the way it smeared her flesh.

"First times, eh?" Bronn remarked. His own knife was drenched with excitement.

A faint smile touched her lips that convinced him that she was unaware who she was with and was intensely focused on their kill to care about what he thinks of her now. Bronn watched her face the whole time as she held the dagger with a tenderness that made him forget for a while what they were doing. He snapped out of it and gestured at the animal and said. "Let's carry this to the fire now so it'll cook."

The weight of the animal promises a full-course meal but Bronn knew which parts are more deliciously edible than the others and he chopped through them easily enough. He selected the hind legs although they were too skinny for his liking. Cersei, on the other hand, was busy trying to take its head off. She looked deadly serious about it too.

"Dagger is too small for that," he remarked, unable to contain a smile.

"Then give me that," she was referring to his Kukri. He only laughed.

She gave him another glare and kept on trying to behead the kid. Bronn suppressed a chuckle as he watched. She is obviously having a hard time and it occurred to Bronn that she might cut her fingers off if he didn't teach her the right way. "Here," he removed the dagger from her hand and gave her his curved blade. "That's not a plaything so if you want to use it, do it proper and true. Like this…"

He went behind her and held her hands as she sliced through the kid's neck. As the steel burrowed all the way to the bone, it let out a crisp sound, and Bronn could swear he heard Cersei whimper when the animal's head dropped to the muddy ground. A fountain of red showered down afterwards and they stood watching it for a while, his hands still clasped around hers as she was beginning to loosen her grip on his Kukri. "Happy, Your Grace?" he whispered as he held her close.

"I don't know," she replied. He believed her.

Using sharpened wood sticks, they poked holes through the chopped legs and toasted them over the fire. Bronn poured little wine of the hearth and it scalded the meat with the just right amount of temperature that he liked. He wanted his charred black. They ate in an unusual silence with Cersei doing her best not to meet his gaze. Bronn didn't engage her either. They have a long journey ahead and he didn't want to wear each other's patience. For now it's best to be in her good graces for he knew that she could be a handful of bullshit whenever she feels cornered and helpless.

He also tried not to watch her eat—to forget that mouth of hers and what else it can do. Each time he found himself transfixing on her lips now coated with juices, he looked off, fighting the queasy feeling at the pit of his stomach. He licked his own lips where she bit him and the coppery taste of the wound haunted him. Frustrated, he ended up ripping another piece of the animal. He burned it until it tasted like ash; until he achieved a semblance of fulfilling his appetite although the rest of his body craved for something else entirely.

The sun has appeared idly in the sky but its light was dim. Grey clouds have almost gathered around it as Bronn sniffed the air, knowing that it will be raining later on.

"We have to ride now before the outpour catches up to us," he told her.

Cersei has finished her share of meat although she didn't look satisfied. Instead of responding to his remark, she asked. "Can I have some of that wine now?"

He hesitated but then he gave it to her anyway with a warning. "Easy now. We don't want you falling off the horse because you're too drunk to ride it."

"You best mind your business," she snatched the bottle away and drank it, swallowing about three times before she pushed it back in his hand. The effect of wine was easily evident in the way her cheeks flushed but she looked content at last. But then it didn't last long because she finally started to notice the disconcerting conditions of the travel. "It's too hot. My garments are filthy and I need to bathe."

He laughed then—and couldn't stop, not even when she was glaring at him like she's stabbing him in the throat. When he finished, he coughed out the words. "You expect to get the same royal treatment as if you were still home?"

Cersei looked away in begrudging embarrassment. He went on. "We'll keep riding on horseback for the next two days with no hope for proper shelter so you can only dream of giving yourself a good wash; unless you want the rain to do that for you later." Bronn stood up and chuckled again, his eyes never leaving her as she sat there, her hands clenched.

"Isn't there any kind of river here somewhere?" She was insistent.

"I saw a pond." Bronn answered. "It's festered with snakes though."

She seemed to consider it for a moment but then she scoffed under her breath and scratched her head, her annoyance growing. "Perhaps I should wait for the rain here."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "The longer we remain at camp, the longer you won't see your boy. Isn't this the point of everything? That you'll _motherly_ overcome your pompous, entitled lifestyle to see that sniveling brat again?"

She suddenly threw a rock at him but he managed to duck away. _"You do not get to talk about my son in any manner, you impudent little lecher!"_ she screeched.

He watched her for a while, waiting for her to cool down but she was already in a foul mood to begin with so she took another rock—a bigger one—from the ground. He was fast enough to grab her by the wrists and pull her to him. They stared at each other and he could see the rage boiling in her eyes. "I only meant to tease you, Cersei."

"You do not get to say my name without proper address, _scum!_ " She kicked him on the leg and although he felt it, he swung her around so he could keep her steady by holding her from behind. She squirmed and continued to curse at him with a varied range of insulting names but he didn't mind. She can have her moments of anger. It wouldn't really make a difference now, would it?

When she finished cursing at him, he finally got a word in. "My manners are the least of your concerns, my beautiful _little_ lioness. It would be very easy for me to hand you over to the crooks in the village we're headed. I wonder how much it would cost to sell a Lannister _wench_ of Casterly Rock—" and that was when Cersei kicked him again and this time it made him let her go. She wasted no time getting away from him.

Bronn managed to tackle her down before she got to enter the woods. She was going to put up another fight again but he warned her, his temper now flaring. " _Do not make me hit you_. And I will hit you across that smug face of yours, my lady, that your eyes will bruise so badly you won't be able to ride a horse _and_ I will have the pleasure of sharing my horse with you and _touch you_ and _fondle you_ in any manner I see fit. _Do you want that?_ "

The threat was only half-meant but Bronn knew that if she forced his hand, he may have to follow through just to prove his point and keep her well-behaved. Fortunately, she understood the anger in his voice and she stopped moving underneath him with her breath caught in her throat. She looked almost pitiful and that irritated him, so he pulled her up and brushed off the leaves strewn in her untidy yellow hair. He carelessly wiped the mud on her cheeks and added. "If you hate me, do it in silence. Otherwise, our journey gets delayed and you may call the attention of spies. Once we pass by Cockleswent, you best keep to yourself then." Almost unthinkingly, he rubbed his thumb on her left cheek. "You can't deny the beauty of this face but we can try because it will save your life if you remain inconspicuous."

She was looking blankly at him. Another wave of silence passed through them again before she spoke up. "I'm doing this for my son…" her eyes are moistened but she didn't cry.

"No need to convince me," he smiled. "Now get your things. We leave now. There's an inn in Cockleswent where you can bathe and scrub off all this shit. We both want you pretty but not too much. Even a flock of sheep can tell when a queen is in their midst."

 

* * *

 

When Cersei was eight and Jamie is hunting with their father, she would walk around the castle to see if any of the Lannister guardsmen will try to talk to her. She didn't understand before why both young boys and old men give her lingering looks whenever she pass by but she loved the attention nonetheless. Most days she would even spend a lot of time combing her long blonde hair with a silver looking glass in front of her. Her mother told her she is the most beautiful, fairest princess in all of Westeros and for a time Cersei believed it. She expected everyone to recognize it. And for a time they did.

She was twelve when she had her first moon blood and she noticed that the tone of her body has changed along with it. She got taller and more shapely and her breasts perked up quite amazingly in tight bodices and colorful gowns that her mother tailored herself. Cersei loved being beautiful. With it came everything and she hoped that love is a part of that as well. She's envious of what her parents have together; that unspoken closeness and mutual admiration and respect that they shared so passionately even when her father and mother would just gaze briefly at each other. She wanted that more than anything.

In her teen years Cersei would charm every boy in Casterly Rock, regardless of their station in life. It pleased her to know that she can have them all. She particularly enjoyed the peasant boys who will give her flowers or crops from their fathers' yards, smiling genuinely at her, unable to tear their eyes off from her beautiful face. If she could, she would have them all. She also enjoyed her father's guardsmen indulging her whims when she commands them to give her things in her parents' absence. She found it the ultimate kind of flattery whenever one of them, tall and armored, would hand her gifts bought from their salary. One time she was so grateful to a guardsman—this fierce and muscled tower of a creature they call Gregor Clegane—that when they were at court during a ball, she sat beside him and, sensing his excitement, reached to touch his crotch. She knew plenty about men's anatomies because her maids would talk about them sometimes, and Cersei, though only thirteen and inexperienced, was deadly curious. She only rubbed Gregor Clegane's crotch that one time and several years after he is now a knighted warrior—her father's 'mad dog'—he would still lust after her. Cersei was now aware what a brutal man he truly is and made sure she will never be alone with him again. However, in her loneliest nights when Jamie was taken captive during the war, she would dream of the Mountain on top of her, pounding his gigantic cock inside her until she bled and died.

Cersei never denied her fleshly desires and if she wasn't of high birth and brought up to Lannister pride, she may have possibly been a slut. She found that there is so much power and freedom in spreading your legs and taking in men in their most vulnerable. It was a weakness and strength; how much she understood what she could do to men. This time, however, with this parasitic scum her imp of a brother took in, she was tested for the first time. Cersei Lannister had grown even fearful of what this sellsword-turned-lord can do to her especially now since they're alone together with a thousand miles of horseback ahead and under the most tempestuous of traveling conditions.

They have been riding today for three hours now and the sun was cruelly burning her eyesight and skin. She began to loathe the parasite even more. He seemed so sure it was going to rain. Now she longed to feel the water in her face more than anything. Cersei's throat is sand and she knew that drinking wine will only make it worse. She bit her tongue although she wanted to keep asking Bronn if they're getting nearer the stupid bridge he told her about. She never traveled this long and far before and without a carriage. It's only Tommen's face that kept her gripping on the ropes with all her energy although she could feel that her palms must have already been bleeding. Behind her, the parasite rode in silence that made her nervous. Cersei cannot understand the magnetic pull between them and she doesn't think she ever will. She didn't dare to look behind her but sometimes the insistent urge would overpower her so she would look anyway. He seems to be waiting for their eyes to lock and when they did, he gives the sleaziest smirk and it burns her. She quickly looks away and focuses on the blisters in her hands instead. She wondered how much she has to bleed for to survive this travel.

"Some wine, Cersei?" the parasite called out. She shook her head and said nothing.

"Probably for the best," he remarked. "If you finish the wine too soon, you may have to settle for the cheap kind in the inn. I don't suppose that will agree with you."

Cersei still didn't look at him as she replied. "I do not have a porcelain stomach, as you so eloquently described. Wine is wine. I can handle it."

He snorted a laugh. _Don't engage,_ she told herself. _He is mocking me on purpose._

Without missing a beat, he asked. "How old is your boy again?"

Cersei felt her chest twinge a little by the mention of her son. It also came as a surprise to her that he would care to know such things, considering the frailty of the situations they've been tossed into for quite some time now. _I don't know his game_ yet, she warned herself. _But I will soon and I will destroy him hence._ Nevertheless, she decided to retract the claws in the meantime. She felt the expression in her face soften as she answered. "He'll be ten this year."

"Peculiar age," he remarked. "I have killed me fifth man righ' about that time too."

She shouldn't care but this detail seemed to pique her interest. "He should be learning swordplay by now."

"He's been in the Tyrells' nest for too long," as he spoke, Bronn caught up with her and they now rode side by side. "Just think about the things they taught him since."

Cersei tried not to entertain the thoughts. She also loathed the casual way the parasite pointed it out. Grinding her teeth, she replied. "If there is one thing anyone can count on about the Tyrells, it's that they have unquantifiable ambitions."

"Wealthy people are whores," he said with a chuckle.

She didn't want to say anything but the journey has been long and depressing and he is the only she can have a conversation with. So she asked. "What do you mean by that?"

"You gamble your lives for the stupidest things."

"Such a strong opinion, Lord Bronn. I didn't know sellswords have convictions."

The parasite glanced her way and smirked. "I'm a practical man. But you won't ever understand that. You're blind like the rest of your folk. You concern yourselves with soaring quick and dangerously high from your posts and you fall down just as fast."

She mocked. "Who knew you have half a brain to analyze my kind?"

He laughed now as he always does, making her feel even more of a fool when she should be the one disarming him. "I enjoy watching you lot from where I stand. Over the years, it's become so easy to mingle and gain your trust."

"You speak of the imp, of course," she pointed out.

"Oh?" He was fully focused on her now. "Want to talk about your baby brother now?"

It's Cersei's turn to smirk. "One thing I truly liked about you is the ease you had when you sold him out. I suppose it's understandable, given what a foul, opportunistic scum you have always been. I also believe Tyrion should've never taken you into his service."

From that mouthful, all the parasite took was, "So you like me, Your Grace?"

"Hardly something to get excited about, scum," she shot back. "I wasn't flattering you. I was simply pointing out how disgustingly helpful you are as my pawn."

He grinned now as he pulled his horse close to hers. "If you are disgusted by me as you proudly claim, you never would have sucked my cock last night."

Cersei tried not to scream and punch him even if it was possible. _He is trying to get the upper hand. He will not succeed_. As calmly as she could master, she answered. "My behavior has been foreign to me these past weeks. Under normal circumstances, I never would have allowed you near the space I'm breathing in."

"And what normal circumstances are those, Cersei?" he shot back. "If you were still Queen? If you didn't allow your husband's death or let alone your son's?"

She felt her face melting as she tried to keep it all together.

"Or if you didn't make that sweet offer of lordship? Danced with me in the masquerade? Let my fingers in your cunt until you bled? Or invited yourself into this travel?"

"Stop," was all she could say.

He snorted another laugh. "We are a thousand lifetimes away from 'normal'."

She looked across him and feared that her eyes would give away her apprehension. "I command you to stop toying with me, scum."

"You command if you pay generously," he answered. "You can't. And it's Lord Bronn of Stokeworth, knight of the Blackwater Bay Battle, sweetling. Don't forget the titles."

"Scum is scum," she spat out.

For the first time, he looked at her with a fleeting kindness that was out-of-place. "Aye, you won't change your opinion. But you need to learn to trust me a little if you hope to survive this. I will get your son back safely but that will depend on how willing you are to quit being a petty, vindictive wench and do as I tell you."

"Never," she looked away, tightening her hands around her reins.

Again, he suddenly remarked. "You used to be very beautiful."

She jerked her head at him. "What does that mean?"

He smiled. "You are not as fresh or inviting as Margaery Tyrell. This can't be a surprise. It should be obvious to you by now."

With that, she kicked at her horse and rode away, the wind slapping her in the face but she didn't care. He caught up with her in no time and pulled her by the arm. She tried to yank his hand away but it stayed firmly in place.

"LET ME GO!" she demanded, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

When he wouldn't, she continued to shout. "HOW DARE YOU INSULT ME? I AM QUEEN, NO MATTER WHAT YOU SAY! You dare compare me to that slut! You know nothing about me! YOU ARE SCUM! I should have had your head in a spike the moment you named your bastard with my traitor brother's name. LET ME GO!" She was finally able to push him off by letting go of the ropes. But when she did, she also lost balance and fell backwards. Her right ankle got caught in the stirrup. She didn't even have time to scream as her head hit the ground; but it was her ankle that suffered the painful weight of her fall. It hung there, still bound in place.

Before even knowing what was happening, the parasite was already beside her somehow and he untied the stirrup before she could hurt herself even more. He carried her into his arms for a while and it was in this horrible, shameful position that she began to weep. The tears just leaked and wouldn't stop. She squeezed her eyes shut. No matter how stubbornly she tried, she couldn't silence herself and she whimpered like a wounded kitten of some sort. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in there.

Everything hurts. Her hands are blistered, her ankle is throbbing and her fucking scalp is itching. Cersei wished she was still at Casterly Rock with her mother and Jamie. She wished she could just go back, that her looks will never fade and there will be no more wars to face. And Tommen and Myrcella are safe with her—and Joffrey alive. She kept howling as she wept while the rest of the world bled with her anguish and regret.

And then she realized where she was again and who she was with. The road ahead of them still stretched for eternity and their horses can only travel so far. This is no time to be crying. Cersei pulled away, the unwanted embrace of this terrible monster already suffocating her. With the tears blinding half of her sight, she couldn't read his face. She breathed heavily and her chest caves in with every intake. _He thinks I'm ugly,_ she thought.

The parasite didn't say anything but kept holding her instead. They remained like that for a few more seconds and then he put her down the ground again. Cersei bit her lip as she felt instant pain on her right ankle. Luckily, he still held her by the elbows and she wondered if he noticed that her ankle is sore. She looked at his face and once again couldn't tell what he was thinking. She has never seen this look on him before. It was a strange mix of pity and amusement and it gave his eyes a very eerie look. She trembled in his stare.

Cersei wanted to push him again but she wasn't sure she could even walk at this point. Before she could even make a final decision, his fingers found their way into the tangled strands of her hair. The gesture shouldn't feel so good but it did. Jamie used to do this all the time and the memory only made her weaker. She gave in and leaned closer to him, not caring if he is a hateful scum. Right at this moment he was the only one here to console her and his touch felt good—gentle and as real as it could get.

She no longer whimpered but she kept her eyes open the whole time. His other hand was on her cheek and he wiped the stain of tears. She tried not to comprehend what he was doing right now. "I'm sorry," he was saying and even his words were a whisper.

She nodded although she wasn't really forgiving him.

The parasite leaned closer to her. Fearing what will happen next, she closed her eyes. His breath was on her lips and she couldn't deny the anticipation that's boiling in her gut. _He thinks I'm ugly_ , she thought. _Why would he want to kiss me now?_

The pressure between their lips was so light and yet it bruised all the same. He had claimed her mouth with a rough urgency before but this was the first time he didn't force his way in. _I hate him but I'm kissing him back._ Cersei held him tightly against her now.

He cupped her cheeks with both hands and deepened the kiss. Cersei welcomed his tongue and whatever madness between them was replaced by a hollow sense of relief. The kiss conveyed something larger than revenge that she couldn't understand.

It doesn't make sense. Jamie was the only man who could know her and love her and make her feel a million things all at once as she lets his swirling affections engulf her. She is still sane enough to know that this parasite— _Bronn_ —doesn't love her and yet his kiss feels utterly incomparable. She wanted to hate it because she hates him. She's not sure anymore.

He pulled away first but his hands were still on her face.

"Can you still ride?" he asked as he let her go.

"I don't know," she looked down at her feet. "My ankle…"

"We have two more hours before we reach the bridge. Can you hold up by then?"

"I think so," she sounded reluctant and he heard it. But there was no time to waste so he nodded and he helped her climb back on her horse. She ignored the new pain on her foot as she grabbed the ropes. Her blisters have finally numbed at this point.

Bronn was on his horse as well and he put his hand on her reins as he guided the two of them into the right direction. "You can let go. I'll take care of them for you."

"And what do I do?" she asked.

"You can hold onto the horse's neck and lean a little to it so you don't injure your ankle further." He waited her for her to get into the position before they started moving again.

As they started riding off, he reached out from his bag and handed her some bread and wine. She had suspected that he carried other kind of nourishment with him. Silently, she bit at the bread and took a sip of the wine. She relished its familiar taste on her mouth.

"Thank you," she muttered without even realizing it.

He smirked at her once more but it didn't annoy her like it used to.

 

* * *

 

The sun has almost disappeared when they reached the bridge. Cersei stirred awake by the time she heard voices. She looked up and saw that Bronn was talking to two ruffians, both of whom kept darting glances at her. She didn't care to remember their faces and she wished Bronn would just hurry up with the conversation or simply kill them.

Her throat felt dry again and all she wanted to do is to get out of her clothes that stink of the days' travel. When she met Bronn's gaze, she tried to look as impatient as possible and the message was not lost to him.

"My wife needs a healer," he was saying. "She injured herself when she fell from her horse. Take this silver as compensation." He tossed them three silver coins each as he spoke. The two men conversed quietly between themselves for a while.

"Why is this taking so long?" Cersei muttered as she tried to lean close to him. "And who are they supposed to be? They don't look like proper guardsmen."

"They're thieves." Bronn answered.

"Did they try to rob us?"

"They can try," he said simply.

Cersei frowned. "You should just kill them then."

"And waste energy? I'd rather just pay them and let us be."

When the two men finished their quibble, one of them pointed at Cersei. His nose had boils in them and even though he was shorter than his friend, he had a mean, hungry look about him that made her uneasy. That and he was also swinging an axe as he spoke. "Three silver shit isn't enough. We ought to butcher your horse and rape your woman."

"You should have done it before I was even awake," Cersei snapped back.

The other man was getting ready to approach her and pull her off the horse but Bronn was quick with his blade and it sliced through the man's ear. He howled and stepped back behind his friend as he held onto what was left of his ear.

The one with the foul nose attacked next, slashing through Bronn's cape but the sellsword-turned-lord had just pulled him by the hair and drove the blade into the man's open mouth before he could even scream. The vile creature began choking in his own blood.

She didn't need to be told what needs to happen next. As Bronn murdered the thieves, she kicked her horse underneath her and went for the bridge which was only a few yards away. It was very old and dingy that at first she feared it would give in but she managed to cross halfway through it unharmed. She stopped then so she could wait for her companion. It didn't take either of them a long time for that.

Bronn nonchalantly wiped the blood off the blade of his sword with a small cloth from his pocket. He rode towards Cersei, the familiar grin plastered all over his gaunt face. She watched him approach her and for some reason the usual heaviness on her shoulders and chest each time she looks at him has ceased to exist this time. She should be worried but she found her lips curving into a smile instead. She turned away before he could see it.

"I should have heeded your earlier suggestion," he remarked as he spat towards the direction of the dead thieves. "Now we must hurry." He unfastened his cloak and handed it to her. "Here, put this on. We're bound to get wet before we even reach Longtable. Then a few more miles before the nearest inn. Should take us about two hours to get to that."

She wanted to complain but couldn't say anything pessimistic this time around. All she could do was to wrap his cloak around her. The faintest whiff of his comforting scent almost made her want to sleep in it. Her ankle doesn't hurt as much and her palms are starting to heal but she wasn't sure if she could ride further in her condition.

An idea occurred to her. A few rides ago she would have dismissed it but time is not on their side now. "My lord," Cersei began and the words made her cheeks flush a bit. "I think it would be best if I ride with you and we tie my horse alongside us."

At first he narrowed his gaze at her, his eyes brutally scrutinizing as ever. But then he got off his horse and helped her down with hers as well. When he lifts her up by her waist, she began to wonder if the pressure of those fingers can leave imprints on her flesh—but then she inwardly cursed herself for inviting such a crude thought. Bronn was able to get her up his horse completely as soon as he pushed her bottom and even gave it a slight spank at that. She gritted her teeth and glared at him for being so indelicate. He just laughed. The sound of that vibrated through her stomach and she couldn't understand why it pleased her so. Cersei couldn't look at him but not for the same disgust which used to plague her nights.

"I'll be at your back," he suggested, that dark overtone once again mixed in his speech. "Unless you want to hold onto me instead of the other way 'round, highness."

She blinked at him. "I don't care. I just want to sleep in a bed again."

Bronn chuckled as he unlatched the reins from her horse and bound them around his own. He climbed up and circled his arms around her waist in a possessive seize. He gripped the ropes and kicked below. Both horses obeyed the command. They rode faster now and Cersei felt the wind whip her face for a while until she realized that it has began to drizzle as well. It was almost like a strange perfume of salt and earth once the outpour caught up with them and Cersei closed her eyes the whole time, inhaling everything as she was soaked in an inexplicable bliss as the storm raged around her. Her next movements were marked with indolence; she would sometimes put a hand above his and massage him in a rhythm like she was hearing a song in her head. Sometimes she would lean all her weight against him and stick her tongue out to taste the rain. Cersei didn't feel so old anymore or robbed and forsaken by a youth that had promised her never-endings.

It must be the fatigue. She is so tired and there are still a thousand miles between her and her beautiful boy. When she thought about Tommen's face, it wouldn't stay long. Cersei put her arms around herself then, shivering in cold. Even her own embrace felt foreign to her.

She must have fallen asleep again because when she opened her eyes, she saw lights ahead and then people heading towards them. She could be mistaken but Cersei didn't care. Bronn will keep her safe—she doesn't doubt this truth anymore—so she was content to close her eyes once more and drift back to her dreams.

A few moments or lifetimes later she was awake again. The rain has almost dried out around her but she could not say the same about her clothes. They are riding in a slower speed as well. She looked down at her hands and realized she had been holding onto Bronn's hands though she couldn't be sure how long.

"Where are we?" her voice croaked as she asked.

"Almost at Cider Hall," he answered and it was a welcoming sound to hear. "It's nightfall now. I could still ride for another three hours but I'm afraid we have to sleep in the woods again." She tried to listen to any indication of exhaustion in his speech but couldn't. Still, she was growing anxious.

"Don't be a hero," she replied. "You need rest. Your strength is very important for this travel. If only I can wield a sword as well as you, I would've been the one protecting us."

He laughed and this time she could hear that he is tired. "I still have three hours left in me, highness. Don't trouble yourself."

Cersei's hands clutched around his own. "We can stop now."

"You want a bath and a bed or not?" he snapped at her. That surprised her.

"Please," she managed to say. "I need you strong."

For a while, he just kept riding in silence. Cersei kept her mouth shut and waited. Some four miles passed and he finally slowed down. She glanced to the side and realized that they were in a village by now. There were only a few homes scattered across the bleak plain but it was better than a forest. It was too quiet though. "Does anybody even live here?"

"Maybe," he said. "Shepherds and their families," he gestured at the flock to their left. Cersei saw how thin and almost sickly those lambs were.

"We can stop here. Shelter is shelter," she remarked. "I don't care about a bed. Anything with a roof will do just as well. All I need is for you to rest, Bronn."

He said nothing.

She found herself rambling on. "We spend the night here and by the first sunrise we ride again to Cockleswent just as planned. Please, let's not be too reckless, my lord."

"You are genuinely concerned for my health, aren't you, lioness?" she could almost feel him sneer at her as he leaned down and whispered into her ear. "I am touched."

"The only thing you are ever good for is your sword and navigational skills." She wanted to sound as disgusted as she always was with him but the travel has taken much from her and she didn't want to antagonize him, not when it's obvious he has also reached his limit. To soothe him, she strokes his hands again. She heard his breathing slow down and for the first time she realized just how close he is. It didn't make her want to slap him. Horrible as it sounds, Cersei even wants to pull him even closer. _He is so warm..._

Before she could think about that further, Bronn halted. Once he was on the ground, he helped Cersei down. They each took their horses to a nearby tree and left them there.

They walked beside each other, baggage on hand, as they approach the first home.

"Your ankle?" he inquired. She looked down and shrugged.

"Let's just find people to accommodate us."

"I got my sword. You have gold. People will accommodate."

Cersei cannot hide a smile anymore. He looked almost puzzled to see her this way—but only for a brief moment. He was smiling at her now and it gave his gaunt appearance a different kind of glow she has never noticed before. She looked away slowly, knowing that she's been shedding some of her tough skin in every passing hour she spends in his company. It should be wrong but she can't help but feel otherwise. Perhaps she's not in the right state of mind. Once she's fed again, she might stop feeling so foolish.

The door opened for them before they could knock and they were greeted by a little girl. Cersei smiled widely, realizing she actually missed seeing other people besides the two of them. The little girl watched them for a while before she shouted for her mother.

A wiry brown-haired woman appeared beside the girl. She looked over them twice and then she grinned and Cersei noticed a few teeth missing. "Travelers always find themselves in this side of the road. We don't mind them as long as they give something back."

Before Cersei could speak, Bronn interjected. "I could hunt deer for you."

"Ah, you can, can't you?" She gripped Bronn by the arm. "You have more meat in ya than you look." She pushed the girl aside. "Come on in then."

The first thing Cersei noticed was the large cauldron in the middle of the small room. She glanced around and saw that there were a huge pile of blankets which she realized must be where they sleep, huddled together in a circle.

"Just me and my baby here," the woman spoke. "Myrra, get the pretty lady some soup." The girl in question scurried to a corner where she pulled out a bowl. She wiped it with a cloth from her tattered garments and then walked to the cauldron.

"I'm Doyrra." The woman curtsied, giggling. "And I s'ppose you're on your way to somewhere very far from here."

"The wife and I are headed to Cockleswent," Bronn replied. "But the rain was unforgiving earlier and we find ourselves in need of proper rest and food."

"We have both," Doyrra said as she watched her daughter hand Cersei the bowl of soup. "And if you hunt for us, we ought you do it soon before the sun rises. I got neighbors who would be pleased for fresh meat to share amongst us."

"How many are you?" Cersei asked.

"About nine families," the woman replied. "I didn't catch your names…"

"I'm Jamie and this is my wife Tysha."

Cersei tried not to wince by his selection of names.

Doyrra squinted at him. "You don't look like a Jamie."

Bronn chuckled. "Oh? Too ugly of a man for such a sweet-sounding name?"

The peasant woman laughed. "If you are so ugly then how can you afford such a beautiful wife like this one?" she pointed rudely at Cersei.

"I ask myself the same thing every night," Bronn laughed. Doyrra laughed with him.

Cersei ignored them and concentrated on her soup. When Bronn looked at her, she tried not to entertain his gaze. She still isn't sure why he doesn't get under her nerves like he used to and she has a vague feeling she won't be happy with the answer as soon as she began to ask the question. For now, she will put it off as long as she can until they reach Highgarden where she will finally meet the boy her son has become.

 

* * *

 

Bronn entertained the wench Doyrra for a few more minutes about mindless prattle before she left with the little girl, probably to inform the other townsfolk that they have guests in their dwelling. He could usually tell when danger is imminent and it wasn't in this case for now. This place is nothing but a bland, convenient spot in the long road. He had been to countless places like this and the people who live in such conditions are often too lethargic or cowardly to care beyond what is enough in their lives. They are no different than the sheep they take care of in their pens. They have their uses, though.

Still, it's best to stay on guard. He is nothing if not a follower of precautions.

Alone with the former queen, he opened his sack and took out the remaining loaves of bread. He tossed one at her. "Better eat that with your soup. It'll mold if you don't."

Bronn put his sword (and other weapons) inside his other bag and hurriedly undressed, ignoring whatever protestations that may come out of her. Luckily, she kept her mouth shut. _Curious,_ he thought but he had no time to decipher her this time. He needed to get dry fast. He did have the courtesy to move to a dark corner when he took off his breeches. Bronn was thankful that his mother-in-law had thought about providing him with other garments. He put on something new and loose this time. He had always been used to the cold especially during the few years he stayed beyond the Northern wall with the wildings. He liked their company; their weaponry and tactics mostly, but Bronn knew from the very start that he could never belong. He never belonged to anywhere.

That was the beauty of being a travelling mercenary. He would not give it up for anything—and there had been fleeting moments when people and events dared him to.

He sat on the ground now, very much content to munch on his share of sustenance. And then he leaned across the cauldron to smell the soup and realized that it wasn't really to his liking. Still, he took a bowl from the old cabinet on his right and poured himself one. He wasted no time and sipped it, realizing for the first time how much he craved this kind of heat even if it wasn't a particularly delicious soup. He bit on a piece of bread again and forgot that she was there until he heard her cough and shifted to her left side.

He didn't look at her. "You can take off your clothes and dry yourself."

Bronn knew she had several clothes with her. _They better not be anything fancy,_ he thought. He didn't really care; he just wants to see her in something other than the shitty garments she had for two days now. Cersei slowly stood up and walked across to their luggage. She reached out for something he noticed was blue and gray of color and then he focused back to his food.

She was gone for awhile, only to return freshly clothed and smelling quite nice. He glimpsed at her and wondered if she brought supplies for a proper bath as well. He wouldn't doubt that she must have. She looked so much like her older self now; rich, pampered and as dismissive as ever. She sat there among the blankets which she pulled close to her chin with her knees up. It's almost hard to believe she could even age. Her skin was the creamiest milk he had ever seen in a woman, but the most painful part of her beauty is that luminescent yellow hair; the way it curls around the rest of her. It reminded him about the images he saw in a septa's quarters he once raided long ago. _Royal birth sure is a pleasant life_ , he surmised, almost bitterly but he was too captivated by Cersei Lannister to truly detest her upbringing. For a moment he didn't know what to say for conversations between them only seem to create more rifts. So he didn't bother. He just focused on his soup.

But she was transfixed on him. He's not sure what she's going to whine about this time. He is quite tired from the travel and he didn't know if he could carry on with the tolerance. He didn't want to think about anything now that the warmth of the soup has started to dull his senses. He might be sleeping soon before she does.

"Lord Bronn," she began. He could hear the certainty, that pompous quality in her speech, and he knew that she has finally gained back her icy disposition. He could only grunt in response. He still wouldn't look at her.

She went on. "I would like to thank you for making it this far with me. I have been difficult all the way through but I would like to reassure you that I would be more sensible and on my best behavior once we embark closer to Highgarden."

"Gratitude only matters with proper pay, highness." He grabbed the wine and shook it. There is only little left. He poured it on his bowl and then handed it to Cersei. She reached her own bowl instead and he managed to pour the wine in there. "Besides, we only have few more days to keep up the act. So remember that 'round here, I'm Jamie and you're Tysha. Best we learn our roles if we want to stay low."

"You are a peculiar man," she said without preamble.

He was too tired to laugh at that so he said. "You're just not used to my sort."

"Yes," she nodded, taking a sip of wine. "I was raised by a stone-hearted but admirable father and married off to an incompetent drunkard monarch—"

"And fucking your twin your whole life," he finished her sentence. He didn't know what madness overtook him. It must be the sleeplessness.

She didn't take offense at all. In fact, he even heard her chuckle as she replied. "My brother and I are no longer in speaking terms so fucking him again is out of the question."

"But you still have needs," he sneered, unable to stop himself. One thing he understood from many of their careless and carnal misgivings is that she will never know what she wants. It is starting to frustrate him.

Cersei was silent after his statement so he managed to meet her gaze. It was a different woman who looked back. He didn't know who it was but she was...softer. And the saddest he had ever seen her. It made him pay attention this time.

"Is it also my wealth you covet next to my body? Or does it not make any difference about the cunt you want to posses? Is it because a woman is a woman, regardless of anything she used to be, hopes to be, is doomed to be?" She looked directly at him, her voice and hands steady. "Is that why you torment me one moment and then handle me with care the next? Do you believe every woman is a toy and once it has served its purpose to pleasure and entertain, it could be just tossed aside to live out the last of its days in dementia?"

Bronn emptied his bowl of wine. He placed it down, his gaze weighing hers carefully. He slouched to a more comfortable position as he kept watching her.

"All the women I know for the best and the worst are whores," he answered. "I only used to get a glimpse of your kind from an impossible distance. When I was a boy, I thought you were all porcelain dolls because of your colorful, expensive dresses."

He finished the last slice of bread. "I don't even think whores are toys. They work hard for the sum of money I pay them and that is something I do as well when I sell my sword. So no, I don't toss them aside. You can't toss people aside unless they want you to."

Cersei said nothing. Her face was blank.

"Whores. Noblewomen. You all pretend to be one thing and you accuse and blame people for treating you just the same when you all started that game first." Bronn managed a small smile. "In my line of work, I don't get to think about marriage like your folk do. Having a bastard somewhere is enough semblance of family for men like me and most times we don't even care to name the lad before we walk out the door. You can dream about marrying a rich husband who will love you and provide for you. That is something I could not even imagine doing for anyone—even when I'm drunk. Nor is it something I ever imagined a woman will ever do for me unless for a huge price, be it gold or something else that could kill me."

He suddenly wished there was more wine. He could tell she wished the same. He could always blame the wine for doing this to him. They said nothing after that exchange so Bronn busied himself with making sure his weapons are well-hidden under the blankets.

He said. "You and I should stay close. We're man and wife after all and it'd be less suspicious for me to hide these—"he showed her the blades "if they're here in our sleep."

When he looked at Cersei, she was still looking at him in a way he could not explain. He knew he said too much earlier. He doesn't usually speak his mind so freely especially with questionable company but there is something so intriguing about this woman that he forgets just a bit that he shouldn't get too close. All he could is wait for her response now.

That response turned out to be better expressed in her next actions. She pulled herself towards him, their eyes now locked for the longest time since that incident in the Stokeworth castle. When she reached him, she spoke. "You kissed me in the road earlier as if it had been a lifelong dream of yours to love me. And now we're both waking up and you and I still think it could be possible…don't we?" Her hands were on his shoulders now, and the light weight somehow managed to crush him. "You can kiss me like that tonight and the next," she leaned closer. "I'm not a porcelain thing to break, Bronn. I am flesh and tears, a woman neither whore or noble."

Cersei sealed the distance between them with her lips hovering close to his with a promise. "And I could be yours…" Words were insufficient at this point as she claimed the last shred of his vigilance with a kiss.

It didn't last as long as she may have hoped it would because he immediately jerked his head back, his eyes wide from the swift revelation of her feelings. He felt the knotting in his gut growing stronger, stirring emotions that he had not understood before until now. It was one thing to test how much power he had over her but this was altogether incomprehensible. He did not expect this at all. Why does she have to be so achingly beautiful, a delicacy of nature, a deepening chasm of the most inexplicable?

Bronn's head began to hurt faintly but he could not show any weakness in this moment especially since she's still looking at him with a hope that is beginning to eat him inside. And then she reached out again, this time pulling him close to her that he found his own hands tangled in the locks of her scented hair.

He inhaled her all the way through, imprisoned by the impossibility that she could truly be his. He remembered the fire she set within him on that masquerade ball a lifetime ago—that brief moment his world was ablaze—and in that moment such as this, he forgot who he was and who she is. Nothing mattered but that awakening.

Still, his mind protested and he tried listening to it. When he did, it became easier to let her go and pull back. He grasped on reason and imposed his will power over her again.

"We can't, Cersei," just by voicing such words already drained him.

"But you want me," she insisted, her fingers slicing through his hair, beckoning him.

"It's been a long journey," he pulled himself free. "We must rest."

She didn't seem pleased with that. "I thought you wanted this."

He was shaking his head all of a sudden. He had nothing to say at this moment so he took their empty bowls and set them aside to a corner. He could feel Cersei watching him but he did not dare meet her gaze. He focused on keeping his weapons out of sight by burying them underneath the blankets near them. While doing so, he spoke not a single word.

"Be that way," she remarked and pulled some of the blankets to her as well. Bronn watched her lay her head close to the firewood that was still burning nearby. In this angle, the light made her yellow hair glow and it aches him to realize that he still felt like touching her.

"Good night, Cersei." He lay next to her then while she had her back against him.

She was quiet for a while that Bronn guess she must have been pretending to be asleep. He didn't care. He needed the rest right now so he tried his best to lull himself to sleep. With his eyes now shut, he could feel Cersei moving beside him and then he felt her hand on top of his chest. Naturally, his arm circled around her back as he pulled her close to him, enjoying the warmth of her pressed against him like this. They are posing as man and wife after all. He didn't sleep though until he was sure that their hostess has returned.

The wench Doyrra had come back with her daughter and Bronn opened his eyes to look at what they were doing. The little girl had walked to the firewood to kill the light while Doyrra has simply offered him more fur to cover themselves with. Beside him, Cersei must finally be sleeping. He could feel the evenness of her breath as she had her head on his shoulder. The small space around them was deathly silent except for the occasional noise from the lambs outside. Doyrra and her child were on the other side of the room by the door and he watched them for a while until he was sure they have fallen to slumber.

Now alone with his own thoughts, Bronn played over the events that led him to this predicament and the adjustments he needs to make if he hopes to keep himself and Cersei alive. Reaching Highgarden from this location hasn't gotten easier. There are still two days of travel to embark once more. He could not be sure by then how this lioness will behave. She may have given him her word but he could never trust a woman with that, especially someone like Cersei Lannister. Bronn realized he had to be prepared. Perhaps the next time she crosses that threshold again with him, he might indulge her whims if it would keep her claws away from his throat. He more than aspires to survive the journey.

 

* * *

 

They had deceived him.

They exiled his sister to a most perilous trip with a man never to be trusted. Jamie Lannister has never felt so powerless or foolish to have allowed these poisonous women to get the upper hand. It was almost embarrassing. He should have been smarter like Tyrion. If he had been, he would've seen it coming. A parasite is a parasite and now this filthy man Bronn has latched himself to a thorny rose. Jamie feared that he had also infested on his sister and now they are a thousand miles away and Jamie could not protect Cersei, let alone have any knowledge if she still lives.

Jamie thought about it. It is possible the Tyrells will keep her alive until they get the boy back. Tommen is their only claim to the throne. Soon when Cersei returns, he will take her side once more and help her get rid of the pests that infiltrated their lives.

For now he had to serve dutifully to avoid suspicions. This is why he sat across Margaery Tyrell now as they supped alone, charming her in the best way he could while his mind is completely preoccupied with his sister' safety.

 

* * *

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be warned for the RATING M of this chapter.

**Chapter Seven: All the running in soft places**

* * *

 

 

It was the little girl Myrra who woke up Cersei.

She had been fondling her hair when Cersei stirred awake. She kept her eyes closed, though. No one has touched her so delicately for quite a while so she wasn't sure how to react. Somehow the small, bony fingers that touched her reminded her of her own daughter's.

Myrra— _Myrcella_ …

It awfully hurt to think of her other child as the gap between their worlds widens each day.

Blinking at last, Cersei turned her head to meet the girl's gaze, unfazed by the familiarity between them. The peasant girl quickly withdrew her hand as if it was slapped. She muttered something gibberish under her breath and then headed to the door.

Cersei just lay there, watching the girl leave while feeling weirdly empty. Sleep was supposed to revive her, but it has been overcrowded by monsters lately that she'd rather wake up to the harrowing touch of daybreak than suffer through more ghouls.

She didn't get up immediately especially when she inhaled the strong scent of manure. She pulled the blankets above her then, realizing how far she had come to such a place and that it would be days before she'd be home once more. As she squeezed her eyes shut again, she thought that her true home was her childhood in Casterly Rock. With Jamie. With Tommen and Myrcella. Joffrey.

And then there was Bronn.

She didn't just betray herself when she kissed him last night and almost offered her body to him. Cersei had also allowed him through the holes where her family should be. But his rejection shocked her. She expected she would heed his cock like any man she had come across. She had seduced lower men before but Bronn proved to be not what she pegged him to be. As far as she's concerned, he might as well be a eunuch of phantom and indecipherable motives.

Cersei heard someone coming in. She peeked under the covers and saw Doyrra.

"You travel in the first light, husband says." The woman pulled away the blankets from her, but not unkindly. She kept smiling. "But first you break fast. We slaughter best lamb for you."

Cersei became aware of the state of her thin clothes as she sat up. She wrapped her arms around herself for cover but Doyrra didn't seem to care about her appearance. Cersei, on the other hand, felt like scrubbing herself over and over. She detested the conditions of the place she just slept in. Still, it would be unproductive to prolong her dismay over such trivialities.

She stood up (and realized that her ankle still aches if she leans her weight on that foot too much) and picked up her luggage at the corner. "And where is my husband?" she asked as she pulled out the square package that Lady Alerie has given her for the travel. _Take heart in it,_ she told Cersei. She has yet to open it. She doesn't know if she even wants to.

"Jamie's in the grass with the chopped lamb and firewood," Doyrra answered. "A man who hunts and cooks, that one. You're lucky." And then she pats Cersei's bottom and left, chuckling.

Still clutching the package, Cersei walked towards the back of the cottage. She had left her clothes to dry there. She placed the package down and picked up the rags. They are dirty and faded but at least they're dry and she could put them on again. She understood that this will allow her to blend in with the common folk. If she has any hopes of eluding spies, she should look and smell (and even talk) like a peasant. It sickens her like nothing else but it's a necessary evil.

When she had finished putting on the rags, she took the package again and stared at it for a few seconds. Deciding that there must be a better time to inspect it, she shoved it back into the large pockets of her clothes and then headed outside to meet Bronn.

Her "husband" squatted below the roasting fire. The smell of burning meat struck her as awfully comforting. He didn't lift his eyes towards her as she approached.

She decided to speak up. "What did you hunt this morning?" Cersei had woken up sometime in the middle of the night and found him gone.

"Deer and snake," he replied, his eyes still on the lamb.

"Deer in this region?" She was positively perplexed. "Either the change in season made animals travel far away from their homes or you have a knack for finding them in the least likely places." Cersei slightly struggled to sit next to him. Her ankle was manageable but it still ached.

"Winter is coming," Bronn took his small blade and gracelessly gutted through the lamb's stomach. "And so do the animals." He put his other hand on the lamb's leg as he sliced through the meat. Cersei watched. The sight of food did not wet her appetite at all.

"Is there wine?" she inquired.

Bronn chuckled. "Does this look like an establishment with fine brewery?"

"Ale then," she interjected. "I'm certain even poverty has vices."

Bronn finally looked at her, a small smile playing on his lips. She noticed the bite mark in his lower lip and felt her cheeks color from the memory of what happened days ago. "No such luck, I'm afraid." He answered. "Water is plenty though."

"I need something heavier to swallow all that." She nodded her head at the roasted lamb.

"I can chop them in tiny portions like baby food for me dearest wife." He reached out a hand and two of his fingers grazed her cheek. She found herself smiling.

He raised his eyebrows. "Good mood, Your Grace?"

Cersei looked off but the smile was still in place. "I wonder if I would've been happier being born a peasant." She chuckled, adjusting her position as she pulled down her ragged garments to cover her knees. She pulled her hair back into a tight bun as she went on. "It would be an intriguing thought. I could have been many other things. Even a sellsword like you."

When she looked at him again, he was grinning at her. "Aye, but not quite suitable for such a beauty." He took a wooden block of some sort and placed the scraps of the lamb's meat there.

She looked at her ankle for a while, lost in contemplation that she didn't notice herself saying, "I am getting old. And fat." _Irrelevant._ _Weak._

He said nothing. So she kept talking, not really expecting any interruption. "You and I might have met under different circumstances if I wasn't a noblewoman. I might have whored. You might have fucked me a few times and gave me a child. And the poor sod would have your shitty looks."

He laughed now and the melody made her tingle. She smiled at him again and he held her gaze for a moment before he suddenly became serious.

"Cersei," he began. "About last night. Uh, I want to bring it up to clean the air, no? We were both tired. Lots had happened on the road. Best we put that aside now."

"Yes, it was because of fatigue and long hours of travel." Cersei agreed. "For the sake of the purpose of this journey, we can at least arrive to point of normalcy."

Bronn nodded. "Aye, normalcy. That means we stop fighting over stupid things."

"And the flirting?"

"You can go ahead with that as you like."

Cersei tried not to roll her eyes. "I have never flirted with you. You have flirted with me."

"Oh?" He grinned but didn't argue anymore. He turned his attention back to the meat.

They ate in a comfortable silence for the first time. Cersei savored the taste of food and gulped large quantities of water, hoping somehow it would turn to wine if she drank more enough. Bronn, on the other hand, kept filling her with more share of the lamb and she surprised herself when she managed to devour every piece. Chuckling at her state of hunger, he wiped the juice dripping to her chin, saying. "You are a woman of great appetites, Tysha."

She swallowed and drank more of the water. When she composed herself, she asked. "Is there any significance to the name you picked for me?"

He smiled coyly at her now but said nothing. She didn't want to start another argument so she allowed him to keep his secrets. Cersei wanted to keep herself in light spirits as much as she can. The days between her and her son are getting narrower every hour and sooner she'll have him again. That was all that matter now. It also helped that she doesn't have antagonistic feelings for Bronn anymore. _But I still can't trust him_. Nevertheless, Cersei coveted his fleeting gazes and the moments of affection in his every smile and jest. _I can't trust him but I want to._

"Don't get too comfortable," he said, interrupting her thoughts. For a moment she thought he could read her mind but then he added. "We'll leave in a few minutes. How's the ankle?"

"Bearable," she glanced down and moved it a little to test the pain.

"You should let me see it," he remarked. Cersei noticed that he was neither requesting nor demanding it. There was obvious concern in the way he looked at her just now, and it made her feel slightly…appreciative? She wasn't sure how else to name that lightness in her chest.

She didn't want her thoughts to betray her so she did not meet his gaze for a while as she answered. "I'll be fine. It's not that swollen." To make her point, she moved her leg towards him so he could inspect it; but as soon as she did, she saw that her ankle was indeed swollen and it was almost as red as an apple. _Why haven't I seen that?_

Bronn looked annoyed. "We should get that compressed with hot water."

"We don't have the time," she answered. "I could just ride with you again."

His expression did not improve. "We may have to leave the other horse. It'll be faster that way. We're nearing Cockleswent. Just a whole day ride away as long as we don't stop."

"Can you even do that?" she was genuinely worried for the state of his health though she also realized how ridiculous it was, considering that he was one of the few men she came across who has an incredible amount of strength, endurance and agility.

Cersei stopped herself. Is she actually thinking highly of him?

Bronn has already stood up. He wasn't amused when he said. "I may have to carry you."

She could feel that her face was turning as red as her ankle. "I can still walk—"

"You know you can't. If you insist on doing that, the pain will only get worse."

She bit down her lower lip, knowing how petulant she may look. It does not suit a woman her age and status so she turned her head away and said. "I understand."

He approached her. As soon as he knelt down, Cersei faced him and wrapped both her arms around his shoulders. This made it impossible not to look at him in the eyes. She was almost afraid that the proximity would tempt either of them but luckily, Bronn was more concerned about lifting her up to pay attention to whatever he was feeling himself. Or perhaps it's all Cersei's imagination. If the sellsword-turned-lord is truly sincere when he said that they should strive for normalcy then Cersei must also do her part and stop thinking too much on how she feels.

_But I want him. And I want him to want me too._

Cersei closed her eyes, ignoring the voice for as long as she could.

She held onto him as he walked towards a tree where the horses are tied to. When he had successfully helped her saddle up, he told her to wait there so he could gather their things. Cersei was left alone, sitting sideways on top of the horse, one hand clutching on the ropes while the other was fishing out the package inside her big pocket. When she found it, Cersei didn't waste time and hurriedly ripped it open. How could such a small thing be something that she could look forward to? Cersei lifted the lid from the box and—

"Tysha!" it was that girl Myrra. Cersei looked at her and waited.

"What is that?" the girl pointed at Cersei's hands.

"A gift from a friend," she answered the child.

"But what is it?"

Almost in tears, Cersei gulped down, almost choking out the sob. "A long-lost treasure from a simpler, happier time." A pause. "Run back home, little one."

"I'm not going to see you again, am I?" Myrra looked grim about it.

"I'm afraid not," Cersei replied as she put the lid back in the box.

"I'm going to miss you!" Myrra suddenly grabbed onto her other leg, looking up at her with an expression that almost made Cersei want to pull her up into an embrace.

"You're a princess!" Myrra went on as she kept tugging her leg. "Princesses are fair and beautiful and gentle! That's what I know. And you're all of those!"

 _A princess?_ Cersei managed a smile. "Yes, yes, I'm a princess. Now go back to your mother."

"Can I be a princess?" Myrra grinned and Cersei saw she was missing a couple of teeth.

"No, little one," Cersei immediately answered, knowing how much the truth would crush the girl. "Princesses live in castles and are wealthy beyond anything you can imagine."

"Do you live in a castle and have wealth?"

Cersei watched Myrra for a while. "Maybe."

"Then what am I going to be when I grow up, Tysha?"

 _A whore._ "Whatever you want, little one."

Myrra broke into another grin and finally run off. Cersei watched her the whole time and was overcome by maternal feelings. She shut her eyes and tried to think of something else but there was no other thought more important than that of her children. She is an old woman now and motherhood is simply an inescapable consequence though her children are probably the only right thing she had ever done in this lifetime. Still, the loss of them gives her something to look forward to. It was the fire that kept her fighting. Cersei opened her eyes now. She lifted the lid from the small box, looked inside, and understood for the first time where her priorities lie.

 _But what of Bronn?_ That voice was gnawing at her again.

As if on cue, the sellsword-turned-lord was walking towards her, carrying their luggage with him. He was clothed in black robes and his cape moved fluidly behind him. Somehow Cersei knew that she would remember the sight of him approaching her like this the most; the confident gait, his piercing, knowing eyes, that devastating smile…then the sharp twinge in her chest worsened the effect. She wanted to say something, _anything,_ to make it all go away. Over the past few weeks, whatever they shared had kept her breathing. Trapped inside Red Keep with nothing but the promise of death to appease her, Bronn gave her a semblance of hope. It was awful enough to have yet another man control Cersei like this but for that man to be a lowborn killer was evidence that the gods hate her. Cersei can't allow the odds to turn against her this time. She knew that it's only family that will save her. Tommen and Myrcella will be her redemption.

After he tied their luggage behind the horse, Cersei used them as leverage she could lean against. The sky was pleasant enough but she knew that by the afternoon the sun will begin to hurt her skin again. She wondered why Bronn hasn't climbed up the horse yet. He was still at the back, and it appears like he was looking for something.

He seemed to have found it because he was telling Cersei, "This may help the swelling."

She looked down and saw him putting some kind of ointment on her ankle. There was a slight burning sensation at first but as he kept rubbing her fingers around the area, it subsided in no time. Cersei didn't bother asking what it was. She just wanted to start traveling again.

As soon as Bronn climbed up, she put both her arms around his waist, moving closer to him so it won't be uncomfortable since she still sat sideways. He was warm as expected and it made it easy to press her face on his back as she let out a sigh of utter surrender.

Cersei felt him tense up for a second but she said nothing about it. She could hear him talking again. "When we reach Cockleswent, we'll stay for another night and this time the lodgings would be to your liking and the food would be just as good."

She said nothing but opted to tighten her embrace around him as a response.

"Afterwards we'll wait for a raven."

That startled her. "A raven?"

Bronn kicked beneath his foot and the horse began to move forward. He was silent for a while as Cersei looked behind them to see that Doyrra and Myrra were standing beside her own horse, waving goodbye at her. Finally, he spoke up again. "You don't think the Queen of Thorns would just let you stroll into Highgarden, do you? Someone will bring your boy to us at Cockleswent."

Cersei felt a bit cheated. "Why didn't you tell me about this information days ahead?"

For a while the sound of the house galloping filled the conversation. And then Bronn answered. "Because you don't trust me before."

Another surprise. "And you think I do now?"

It occurred to her that the silence that followed between them only mean that neither of them needed to hear the confirmation to that statement at all.

 

* * *

 

 _Cersei Lannister will be the death of him_.

No kind of foresight would have informed Bronn about this development. It was an impossibility that can ruin him if he doesn't fix it soon. Or perhaps it was all too late? He saw it in her eyes last night. She wanted things from him he could never give away.

He tried to think about the last time a woman ever wanted something from him other than a good fuck. Luckily, no wench ever threw herself at him for a promise of marriage and a family. It also occurred to him that even as a young boy, he never desired a woman beyond what his cock wants. It's just not something he had to worry about. A love from a good woman will not help him survive. Besides, as far as he could tell, men become weak when feelings for some woman are involved. He had witnessed firsthand from compatriots how love can twist a person until it rots the core. He is not about to fall prey to that, especially not for a Lannister. Bronn had tried not to overthink it but the days of travel with Cersei are beginning to take their toll, and it hasn't gotten easy.

Still, he had always been focused and Bronn knew his relentless pursuit for self-interest is what kept him alive. That's what he should always remember and never forget.

They've been riding for an hour now when Cersei decided to strike a conversation with him which was already odd in itself. Perhaps last night gave her enough incentive to talk to him again. Or perhaps it's just the boredom. Either way, Bronn needs to make sure it doesn't get out of hand.

When she asked about how long he had been a sellsword, Bronn answered it as straightforward as he could, even if he wanted to ask her why she's suddenly curious about his affairs, for every time he would attempt to tease her or give an opinion about something, she would always find a way to turn it into an argument. The journey has taken much from him and half of that time was spent dealing with her. He would not make the mistake of antagonizing her again.

"Do you have any siblings?"

"That I know of?"

"What does that mean?"

"It means my father is well-traveled and who knows how many women he fucked and how many of those women were left with bastards."

A pause. "Do you have bastards?"

Bronn shrugged his shoulders. "I wouldn't know. I never stick long enough to find out."

"Have you ever been with a woman who wasn't a whore?"

He wasn't sure how to answer that for some reason. He had a fair share of both whores and wenches who were willing enough to spread their legs for him without payment. But the way she asked him that question implied something else. She was still behind him the whole time as they spoke so he can't see her face but her tone of voice definitely hinted something.

Weighing his next words, he replied. "Once, I think. I don't remember any of it anymore." He wanted to end the line of questioning with that particular statement and on that specific topic.

Cersei was able to pick it up in no time. He could tell with the way she shifted her arms around his waist. Their closeness did not bother either of them like it used to, but there was still that faint sensation that's always visceral but which they try to conceal. Bronn cleared his throat and kept silent though he could guess that Cersei was not done interrogating him just yet.

It didn't take her long. "I still don't understand some things," she began. "Aside from whatever gold at stake, you didn't have to get involved. You already have a knighthood. A lordship. A rich wife with a castle." She paused, tightening her grip around him again before she went on. "But you could risk losing it all in this journey. One wrong move—whether you aided me and my son to an escape, or you let us get killed on the road—" she lowered her voice now. "You'll be left with nothing. You'll go back to being a sellsword and to places where the Tyrells will not reach you. Worse, you could spend the rest of your life hiding from them."

Bronn found himself smiling somehow. He could always find humor even in the most gruesome of things. Or perhaps it had something more to do with her sudden concern for his welfare.

"So why?" she asked.

"Why what?"

"Risk it? All of it?"

"It's no risk," he replied. "All those silly, fancy titles can bugger off. I'm not completely attached to any wealth. Besides, I've always been more content traveling anyway."

She doesn't seem convinced. "But you went through all that trouble acquiring the Imp's trust."

"It's no trouble at all," Bronn said. "If you knew him as well as I do, you'll know Tyrion has always been so trusting when he considers one a friend…especially if it's family."

 _And that had been his downfall_ , Bronn thought then shook it off quickly.

"Then why come to King's Landing if all you want to do is travel?"

She's got a point. He hasn't stayed in one place for long like he had done this time.

"I don't have reasons," Bronn answered honestly. "Maybe I enjoyed the comfort too much. That's probably it. Haven't challenged myself for months. A bit bored now too."

Cersei snorted. "You think you're so impressive, don't you?"

He chuckled. "Here I thought I have unquestionable modesty."

It didn't surprise him when she gave a little laugh herself. The lioness is changing, learning, adapting. She hasn't used her claws on him in a while but Bronn won't let his guard down, just in case. He heard her speaking again. "You never really told me how you met the Imp."

"You never used to give a damn."

Cersei placed her chin on the crook of his shoulder and still had her arms around his waist. Everything about this situation—the conversation, her gestures, the mood—it all felt so…intimate.

He wasn't sure he liked it—or hated it either.

Bronn decided to answer just to pass time more meaningfully. "It was at a tavern a few miles away from Winterfell. Lady Catelyn had captured him and I saw an opportunity in that so I came along. On Eyrie, I championed him, killed some knight, then your brother was released, we met some barbarians on the way to your father's camp…then we survived a battle against Robb Stark's men. Then to King's Landing where he was temporarily Hand to the King, then the Blackwater battle, knighthood…" he stopped and grinned wider. "Then a stunning vision of generosity offered me a lordship and said stunning vision developed a certain kind of affection for me. And here we are."

He heard her sigh. And then she said. "You've come a long way, I suppose."

"Enough to earn your respect, Your Grace?"

She sighed for the second time. "We're past the titles, are we not?"

"Aye," he replied immediately. "But I can call you pet names."

"You wouldn't dare."

"How does 'vicious goddess of the clumsiest' sound?"

"You're not very creative, are you?"

"I'll think of something better once we have wine."

Cersei chuckled a little. "Ah, yes. Anything is better when there's wine."

"Including a good fuck," the words were out of Bronn's mouth, forgetting for a second who he was talking to. An understandable pause ensued. Bronn almost held his breath in.

"You would know best…I assume," was all she said.

Bronn was tempted to say something clever or crass but stopped himself. He kicked the horse underneath his feet again and they rode faster. They were approaching Cider Hall now before she spoke again with another set of questions. She seemed too preoccupied to notice where they are going. Bronn wondered about that but he doesn't mind keeping her distracted.

"Where was the last place you stayed before you found the Imp in that tavern?"

"It's funny that you ask," It truly was. "I had just left Lannisport."

"You were in Lannisport?" Her shock amused him. "For business?"

"What else? Though I had a little bit of pleasure." Lannisport has the finest whorehouses.

"Have you been to Casterly Rock?"

Bronn noticed that her hands loosened around him and were resting dangerously close to his crotch. He ignored the provocations stirring in his loins and replied. "I got near enough."

"How near?"

"So many rocks. I didn't bother."

"Yes, the way to the castle is steep," Cersei remarked. "But it's truly enchanting." She sighed softly and when she did, he felt her breath on his ear and it made him rather ticklish in the wrong places. Bronn listened to her as she went on. "When we play, Jamie hides and I seek him out. I like looking for him more than being found. There's a certain satisfaction on figuring out where he hides."

"Do you play with Tyrion?" he knew better than to bring up her other brother like this but he almost didn't care. He was talking to a different Cersei and he wanted to take advantage of that.

"No." She lowered her hands on his crotch now. "I've always hated him."

Bronn didn't say anything as he felt her fondling him. He crossed Cider Hall minutes ago and a few more minutes from now and they'll be in one of the taverns in Cockleswent. He looked up slightly, blinking through the sunlight. He can see the Ashford castle from here which meant that they're closer to their destination. He had to ensure that the nobility in that castle won't be informed about new visitors today. That means once he gets Cersei inside a tavern, he had to do some scouting around the streets for spies and kill them. That's something he's been looking forward to. After Bitterbridge, he hasn't murdered anyone. His sword needs to be cleansed by blood sooner rather than later. Killing clears his head after all. He needed that focus now. He needed it more than—

_Oh gods, why doesn't she just take my cock out and move her hands faster?_

"Cersei," he said. "We'll be in town a few blocks away. People will see us so…" his words got caught in his throat when she suddenly nibbled his ear. _Damn you…_

"You said you're taking me to a place where there's a bed this time…" she whispered. "That would certainly be most convenient for the things you're about to do to me."

Bronn wanted to protest but his cock was not complaining. He could feel it poking through his breeches. When this happens, he usually goes straight to the closest whore in the alley and then slams her to the wall. This time the woman closest to him is one who he should not touch again.

"And don't tell me to stop or make excuses." Cersei added, her voice harsh. "You're a man and I need you start acting like one and give me some of that wine and good fuck you speak about."

He found himself smirking despite himself. "Aye," he answered quietly, knowing he'll regret it.

 

* * *

 

Bronn didn't pick the first tavern they came across. He wanted to make sure that their location is as inconspicuous as possible so he opted for the one closer to abandoned farms. It's also quite inconvenient to ride a horse all the way through the marshes and mud. The soil is too sunken yet the grass can still grow high. If he hadn't been to Cockleswent before, he wouldn't have known about the tavern they're headed to. That's how well-hidden it was. He remembered that a crooked sort of man with eight daughters owned it and he becomes quite a gracious host when the price offered is beyond generous. When they reached it, the sun was already high in the sky. Cersei had stopped stroking him some time earlier and was trying not to make it too obvious how much she hates the road they're taking. Bronn could tell by the way she's sighing every few minutes that she's not that well-acquainted with the dirt and grime of such long travel. On normal circumstances, he would abhor this kind of nuisance so ingrained to the noble-born but it was simply endearing on her. She told him that she wasn't made of porcelain or glass and yet he knows she still expected him to handle her with care. It would prove to be a challenge, considering the only women aside whores whom Bronn kept us company were either village girls used to working on fields or fellow sellswords who are manlier (and bigger) than he is. He had never come across any kind of woman of grace and delicacy. What's more is Cersei is also a proud lioness and this makes her vicious and vulnerable at the same time. Thinking about such incompatible duality somehow gave him chills and his cock hasn't been this hard since he was ready at thirteen.

"Is this charming little abode accessible from a scout of Highgarden?" Cersei inquired. "If we are to meet one of them in this place, won't he get lost?"

"There are farms near the hills close to Highgarden. It would only take two hours to reach them. All we need to do now is to send a message."

"A raven," Cersei said. "Is that safe?"

"Not all message carriers have to be birds."

"But you said—"

"A raven can mean anything."

She snorted. "Don't be cryptic. You don't have enough wits for that."

"You wound me," he chuckled. "I may not be as clever as the Imp but I wouldn't have gotten this far if I don't think things through."

"Apologies," she immediately replied. Her hands were gently moving against his stomach. He enjoyed that. "I'm quite tired and my ankle still troubles me. I certainly want that bed now."

"Your ankle," he began. "I could hold your legs up during." He snickered.

"I'm surprisingly flexible for my age, Lord Bronn." Cersei whispered. "I suggest you prepare yourself for a long night." She kissed him at the back of his ear and it almost destroyed him.

A husky man whose age wasn't distinguishable greeted them the moment they were close. Still on horse, Bronn watched the place they'll be sleeping in for the next two days with its crumbling concrete and barricaded windows, the sight of dead cats hanging from the roof (as decoration, he surmised?) and what looked like a vegetable patch where all the crops are drowning in rain water. Still, Bronn had to see what was inside first so he climbed down the horse and told Cersei to wait there which was fine with her because she was obviously in no hurry to follow him.

"You pay me copper and you get a mat on the floor," the man was all-business as they walked together, "Pay me silver and you get a room with bed but no blanket."

"And if I pay gold?"

"Room with bed, two pillows, two blankets, five candles and a window that opens," the man answered. "But quantity can change depending on how many coins."

Bronn smirked. "How about food?"

"Rats with radishes is a specialty my daughters have learned from their mother."

That was acceptable for him but not for his royal companion. He may have to hunt around the area. Maybe he could chop a snake into little pieces so that Cersei won't recognize it. "Got any ale?"

The man nodded. He spoke in a languid tone. "Have six caskets, all full. I have books. We use them when there's no firewood. Three of my daughters are whores. If your wife is open to it…"

"I'll ask her," Bronn remarked. "Where do we put the horse?"

"No stable." The man concurred. "But the farms—" he pointed to a direction, "are wide enough for nine to ten horses. But there are bandits roaming every night. I suggest you buy two rooms and put the horse in the other." He coughed and then spat out phlegm. "So you pay me gold?"

"Aye, gold. For two rooms." Bronn unlaced his pouch and handed the man ten dragons. His disposition changed by the sight. Bronn added."My wife needs a tub and someone to scrub her."

"My youngest can do that." The man offered and then he made a whistling sound and a girl about twelve years of age appeared in the staircase. Bronn was surprised to see that she had yellow hair too but shorter. Quite lovely for someone fathered by an ugly son of a whore like the tavern owner was. The man never gave his name but he introduced his daughter as Evon. Bronn went outside with the girl and saw that Cersei was already handing out their luggage to the man's older daughters. One of them was incredibly pale and bony while the one was plump and was smiling a lot. Evon told him that their names are Gema and Ara. He didn't care to know which was which. Paying little attention to the girls, he helped Cersei get off the horse and carried her inside.

"Is the horse coming with us?" Cersei could hardly believe it and neither could Bronn.

"I bought two rooms," he simply said.

"How…peculiar," was all Cersei could say although she doesn't look amused as he was.

The 'common room' was badly maintained with broken glass still on the floor while everything stinks like urine, but the room they were put in was decent enough. The bed spreads smell clean and washed and the window is cracked wide enough to allow breeze in. The floorboards don't creak as much and the walls were scrubbed though Bronn can still see smudges of seed and blood in the corners, most probably from the previous occupants. Bronn generally liked their room. He put down Cersei on the bed and watched her as she tries to make sense of the place for herself.

"Is this the best room they have?"

"Yes." Bronn was sure of it. "To them, this is what you get when you pay gold. It's all that man and his daughters can do to accommodate their customers."

"Better room than our horse's, I hope."

He laughed at that. "They also have ale. I'm sure you want a sip by now."

"Later," she said as she looked at him with a hint of a smile. "Come here…"

He couldn't hide his grin as he approached. When he was sitting close to her by the bed, he didn't really know what to do first. He had thought about it many times before since the masquerade, and he had already touched her and tasted her several times and yet everything still feels strangely new with her. Reluctantly, he placed his hand on top of her knee.

Cersei was leaning on him now, her eyes almost half-closed. Bronn hesitated. Following his own instinct, he raised his hand up her thigh and then he slowly kissed her on the neck. Her soft flesh was nothing that he ever tasted before. Breathing in her scent, his fingers sought an entrance and Cersei spread her thighs apart just a little so he could move forward. She rested her chin on his shoulder, murmuring something he couldn't understand. She opened up easily under the pressure of his fingers and the delicious sound of her little, strained moans encouraged him to dig deeper. It occurred to him that he was touching her delicately, taking his time exploring her unlike the last time. His goal before was to shame her but now he wasn't sure what he wanted from this. He enjoyed the way she's surrendering to him and how he managed to bend her will; but even the most susceptible woman is dangerous. They have waters in them that could overflow if he's not cautious. He could feel Cersei's need and desire underneath her. She was overpowering him in every way, making him question his better judgment, driving him slightly insane as she's pulling him close to her now. Her embrace felt like he was being enveloped into a dark corner, a territory he never dared to stray before. He had been with enough women to understand their wiles but never with someone as majestic and cruel like Cersei Lannister and there's always terror in taming a lioness. He had to stay in control. He can't be like the men who wasted their lives away all for the sake of an enchantress.

Regaining back his common sense and restraint, Bronn slipped his fingers out of her and watched her face for awhile, saw the wave of desire leaving the moment he starved her again. She looked angry about it at first, but then her eyes began to say something else and filled him with dread.

He remembered that two days ago he kissed her like he never kissed a woman before and Cersei told him that it was because it's a lifelong dream of his to love her—someone like her—and Bronn knew she was wrong—but he kissed her anyway as if was true. Holding her like he was going to crush her any moment, it didn't matter what was real and what was not.

It took him everything he had to pull away from the kiss. Cersei still latched herself on him though, her whole weight pressed against his body. He had never stayed this close to a woman for anything else other than fucking. Somehow she occupied a space in him that was never there before until now. Clearing his throat, Bronn eventually pushed her away, grabbing hold of her shoulders to maintain the distance between them. They still sat on the bed, looking at each other without uttering a single word. Bronn knew they were both too old for this or at least to be this powerless. He'd been to places, and she'd been hardened just as much as he was. Whatever is happening to them right at this moment should not wound them—not even leave a scar. But it felt like she was going to rip through him in the same way she skinned her first animal days ago. Was this her plan all along? Has she been holding a blade to his chest from the very start, waiting for the opportune moment to strike?

 _No,_ Bronn thought. _Don't overthink. Just fuck her. If she tries to manipulate you just because you bedded her, refuse whatever she asks. She can't harm you any more than you can harm her._

As he mulled this over, Cersei had placed her hands around his waist this time, trying to unlace his breeches. He stopped her midway, commanding her with his eyes.

_You want her cunt. Have at it. But don't let her take over._

Cersei leaned closer to kiss him again but he didn't respond this time.

 _Don't hold her hand. The lioness still has claws._ He managed to pull away.

The silence was finally shattered when the girl Evon came to their room, looked them over and announced. "Bath is ready for your wife. The water is lukewarm though. Hope it will do."

Bronn looked at the girl and then back at Cersei. "Now you can have that proper wash you wanted." Fearing he might touch her again, he stood up and nodded towards the door. "Go."

 

* * *

 

Evon took her to a smaller room and told her to use a piece of wood to block the door.

Cersei immediately shed off her clothes that mingled with her sweat. It felt like ripping her own skin when she did. Her thoughts raced in her head as questions poured in and made it almost difficult to see where she was going. Almost clumsily, she dipped inside the medium-sized tub. The water was beginning to cool down but she didn't care. However, it surprised her to see that it was made of porcelain and it bothered her. How could a peasant acquire such extravagance? She dismissed it easily though. _He probably stole it._ Cersei is too unfamiliar with the ways of the poor to begin with so it shouldn't be of any concern now.

What she worried about was the way Bronn had been acting lately. They agreed on normalcy but everything between them still feels anything but. Perhaps it's too late to go back to normal after all. It would be childish to keep denying what had already transpired between them. She remembered what her mother told her after her first moon blood visited her. _Kisses given in haste can never be taken back,_ Joanna Lannister warned her. But for a savage, lowborn killer, he kisses like…like those stupid songs she used to hate listening to as a child, ones that praise noble knights and beautiful princes. Why is she even thinking that? He's no knight or prince…certainly not noble or beautiful—but he kisses like she's the only woman in the world… _stop, you fool,_ _he's not going to be your savior._

Cersei's hands were shaking. She wasn't sure if it's because of the cold, stale air around her or because of the fear that's beginning to stir within her. Either way, she took the cloth and began to scrub every inch of her body. She didn't stop scrubbing even when her fingertips began to feel numb. Perhaps she thought this bath would be cleansing more than just her body.

Right in the middle of rubbing the cloth against her mound and feeling disgusted that it had been betraying her every time she's in his presence, Cersei could feel tears coming and it was terrible that it had all come to this. A Lannister inside a small room, dipped inside a smaller tub, nude, dirty and all alone. _No,_ Cersei shook her head, shutting her eyes in total acceptance. _You're not a Lannister anymore._ Hearing herself think that, it somehow set her free even if for the most terrible reasons. Cersei wiped her cheeks with both hands and, for the first time, laughed at herself.

She understands now. _He doesn't want me because he knows he can't have me._ Cersei lay her head against the back of the tub. _But I won't be me anymore._ She smiled, feeling absolutely insane yet happy for the first time in years. _I want him to want me and he will._

She may not be a Lannister anymore but she still gets what she wants.

 

* * *

 

The moment Cersei left the room, Bronn collapsed to the bed, his hand instinctively reaching for his crotch. He closed his eyes, breathing in and out. His annoyance now growing, Bronn quickly unlaced his breeches and pulled his cock out. He rubbed it in a lazy rhythm at first but it started to feel too good so he kept at it. He was literally focusing intensely on the task at hand. He hasn't done this in a long time, not since he was old enough to afford some whore to do it for him. But what this Lannister woman is putting him into…Bronn stopped thinking about it altogether and increased the speed of his hand. Only a minute has passed when he stopped. His cock was still hard as ever and he hasn't spilled his seed yet. Bronn was staring down at it when Evon entered. She gave a stifled gasp as Bronn looked at her. Unfazed, he said. "You should knock next time."

"I-I'm sorry…"

Bronn smirked at her. "Wouldn't be the first." He didn't feel like tucking his manhood back in though and Evon was still looking at him (at it) for another second before she turned away and stormed out of the room. Alone again, Bronn started to laugh. He finally placed his cock back inside his breeches but didn't lace it close. He lay back to the bed and stared at the ceiling. It's only been four days since he bedded Margaery Tyrell. The memory made him smile. He thought about the queen reagent's brown curls against her pale skin. Those mystifying brown eyes with green streaks. Her dainty fingers. The way she mewled like a cat beneath him. Bronn found himself relaxing, his breath even. His cock remained stiff, however, especially since he's beginning to think about more details of their rendezvous. He knew he had to fuck his wife once he gets back but he's not looking forward to that; but he's not sure Margaery Tyrell would accommodate him again either. She promised she will wait for him but he knew how much guards and ladies-in-waiting surround her. No matter what Margaery says, he doesn't even believe that Olenna and Lady Alerie would just permit her to commit such indecency again, if they ever did find out about it. _Sleeping with the queen is treason,_ he remembered. That should dampen his appetite for her flesh but his cock disagreed. Bronn closed his eyes and decided that maybe sleep will solve it. Cersei seems to be taking a while anyway.

Someone coughed.

He opened his eyes and turned to the direction of the sound.

It was Evon. She tried to hold the tray with plates and a pitcher steady, but it was obvious she was still frazzled about earlier. Bronn grinned at her.

She ignored him and placed the tray on the bed close to him. Bronn just watched her. She's a sweet-looking morsel, this one. Very, _very_ young though. _A girl is ripened once the moon blood visited her._ He found himself asking out of whim. "Have you bled yet, child?"

"Yes." Evon muttered sheepishly. This couldn't have been the first time a man tried to engage a conversation concerning her maidenhead. Her father did mention that his other daughters were whores. Gema looks like a stick with small teats and Ara was soft enough (he actually preferred a little bit of meat in women) but she also looks like she could talk his ear out.

But Evon…

The possibility enticed him. He remembered that when he was fifteen, he slept with a thirteen-year old maid. She bled quite well and cried all the way through. On the second time, she finally started to enjoy it. Bronn slowly sat up, maintaining eye contact with Evon. He smiled at her.

"Do you want more blankets?" she asked, fiddling with her fingers.

That brought his attention back to Cersei. "Yes. My wife likes to keep warm. Also, a basin of water with salt and towels."

The girl nodded. "Anything else?"

"I'd like to speak to your father. Send him to my room."

Evon left in obvious hurry. Bronn chuckled to himself and took off his robes but left his pants. He stretched his arms up, feeling his muscles tense up and then relax. He took off his boots and flexed his toes. Bronn should also get cleaned up himself after Cersei. He wondered what was taking her so long. He knew that she'll be coming all wet and beautiful as ever with soaked yellow hair pressed against her creamy skin. The image was almost made him hard again so he shook it off.

The owner of the tavern appeared on the doorway, smiling. "Something else you need?"

Bronn motioned him to come close. He offered him three dragons which the man happily accepted. "And what is this for?" he asked.

"For one of your daughters."

The man toyed with his coins. "Which one?"

"The youngest."

The man glanced back at him. There was a moment of hesitation that came to view but only for a second. He was smiling at Bronn again. "Evon is…maybe one of my older ones instead?"

"Your youngest is the prettiest one to look at." Bronn measured his words.

The man just raised his eyebrows. For a father, he doesn't seem a bit offended. Bronn knew plenty of fathers, no matter how impoverished their lives may be, would still blink and at least feign moral outrage when it concerns selling their daughter's virtue. But not this one. It was understandable. Once Evon is older, she may resort to whoring like her sisters.

Bronn asked. "How young is Evon?"

"She turned thirteen two days ago." The man answered. "Gema is twenty-three, Ara is eighteen." He paused. "My Evon has never been with a man. If you truly want her, then another three dragons may persuade me better." The man gave him a crooked grin. Bronn thought about it. He badly needed a release and bedding a girl so young would have to cost more than the usual. He pulled three more gold coins from his purse and gave it to the man.

Evon came back, carrying the basin of water. She stopped when she saw her father accepting the coins. The expression in her face changed from confusion to understanding. Bronn thought she would've dropped the basin but she was able to approach him and place it down her. Bronn caught a glimpse of her budding breasts and knew that this is the one he wanted to warm his bed tonight.

_And she had yellow hair…_

"Evon," the man placed his hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Clean yourself when you're done with the sweeping." He nodded towards Bronn. "Our patron asks for your company."

The girl's eyes do not lie. She was terrified. Bronn could see her swallowing a big lump in her throat. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

"I have to make my wife sleep first," he added before the father and daughter left. "I'll just go out when she's rested and then you can direct me to your daughter's room."

"Aye," the man answered, flashing him a quick grin and then he gave Evon a little push to the door and then they were gone. Bronn took the peach from the tray and began skinning it with his own knife. A few minutes passed before Cersei returned, all drenched and wrapped in a tattered towel. Bronn didn't dare look at her, not even when she turned to a corner to put on fresh clothing. He glanced her way once she was dressed. Cersei sat on the other edge of the bed, drying her hair with the towel. When she saw him staring, she gave him a tired smile. He looked off.

"Get some rest. You haven't laid in a soft mattress for days."

"I very much intend to…" she was coming closer, "..unless—"

"Save your strength for your son." He curtly replied.

When she kept silent, he risked a look. Cersei's hair was still wet but the sunlight from the curtains somehow made every stand shine. She wore a green sleeveless nightgown that reached her knees. Bronn had to wonder if she even has blemishes or scars anywhere. Her face had slight tanning because of the travel but her green eyes have never look greener from where he's sitting. He guessed that she may be forty by now, scarcely five years older than his age. He allowed his eyes to explore the rest of her body. Her plumpness was acceptable. He enjoyed women of a larger girth sometimes because he can't grab hold onto skinny ones when he fucks them. There is little to bite and squeeze.

Bronn shifted as he watched her some more. Though her lips are cracked from not drinking enough water since they started the journey, the ghost of its texture and taste still lingered in his. Bronn wanted nothing more but to reach out to her; a very visceral reaction that he fought off. He looked away at last and focused on his peach.

Cersei didn't say anything or made an effort to touch the tray of food either. She grabbed a pillow from his side instead and pushed herself to it. She now lay across him on the bed. Her sighs filled the room for a while. Bronn glanced again to see her eyes shut and her chest heaving. The outline of her nipples poked through the thin garment. Her yellow hair was scattered on the bed sheets. She looked exactly like one of the paintings on sirens he smuggled once to sell for a barrel of Dornish wine. He bit hard into the peach as he looked on.

He waited for five minutes, still eating the peach, until he was certain she had fallen asleep. And then he brushed off a strand of hair from her forehead with his two fingers, not really touching her skin when he did. She lay absolutely still by now.

He waited for another five minutes. This time he was drinking the wine. When he finished his second cup, it was already dim outside. Cersei snored softly. He placed a blanket on her and when he did, his hand touched her stomach. It stayed there, his fingers trailing across it as he contemplated about the four childbirths she suffered through. Pregnant women can use their round bellies as armors though. He knew this because he remembered that every time his mother gets pregnant, father would stop hitting her long enough until she delivers the baby. He watched her give birth twice and all the blood and guts coming out of her scared him at first but his mother kept pushing through the pain and he understood then that women are built with a different kind of steel.

Bronn chuckled to himself when he thought about his childhood again. He's never really this nostalgic. A minute passed. He slowly left the bed and walked towards the door.

When he glanced at Cersei again from where he's standing, it reminded him of the true distance that separates them. He glided that threshold a few times but he knew as much as she did that she's never going to welcome him into her chamber without having to destroy first the concrete walls that are keeping the rest of the world away.

 

* * *

 

Evon cried as he expected but she didn't want her father or sisters hearing it so she obediently bit into the piece of cloth that Bronn placed in her mouth. He thought about taking her from behind but she was a young girl, and he truly didn't want the experience to be painful or traumatizing for either of them. He even kissed her on the mouth for a few moments and was gentle in handling her while he guided himself inside her. Now he lay on top of her with his strokes still in a languid pace until she's wide and wet enough to accommodate him more space.

He gave her two minutes to stop crying and whimpering. As soon as she did, he removed the cloth and kissed her again. This time she responded, their tongues flicking on top of each other until she bit him by accident on the lower lip. It reminded him of the time Cersei bit him and it made Bronn both angry and aroused. He pushed his fingers through her short yellow hair and quickened his thrusts. Evon whimpered again as her eyes watered. She held his gaze this time and stopped herself from crying out. Bronn changed his pacing and angle, slowing down for a while before going faster again. He repeated this for a while. A few seconds passed until Evon breathed out loudly with her mouth slightly open. This time she was moaning in pleasure. He could always tell.

He gripped her by the waist now and pounded into her over and over. Evon expanded under the pressure and weight of his manhood as she put her arms around him, as well as her legs, and grinded her hips back. She closed her eyes not in terror anymore but in enjoyment. He himself liked how strained her moans sounded as he moved in a more erratic rhythm.

With a satisfied groan, Bronn exploded just below her navel, coating the thin hairs on her mound with his seed. Evon struggled to get her breath back. He pulled away from her and gave her the cloth so she could clean up. She never said a word.

He taught her how to pleasure with her mouth next. She learned well although he she choked a few times. It took Bronn ten minutes to get hard again. The second time he took her, he shifted her in every position he saw fit; pulling her legs up and bending them forwards, shoving her face into the pillow and thrusting in his quickest pace; giving her a ride on his lap until he flipped her back against the bed with him on top so he could finish the job. He turned Evon into a real woman that night. When he came the second time, he spilled himself inside her and watched her face livid in ecstasy as she accepts his seed. He kissed her for the last time and then pulled away.

There were droplets of blood scattered across the sheet beneath them. Bronn always liked to taste broken maidenheads so he thrust his fingers in Evon, took them out, and placed them in his mouth. She definitely tasted like six dragons and thirteen years old.

Satiated and quite drained, Bronn smiled and gave her a pat on the head. "You were splendid. Some other night, eh?" She blushed. He didn't wait for a response and left.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been years! I had a falling-out with the friend whom I dedicated this story to, so I don't know if I could ever finish this. But this is the draft for the eighth chapter that was even incomplete. I may find time to pick this up again but no guarantees.

**Chapter Eight: Sweetest fruit in the garden**

* * *

 

 

Cersei woke up to find the left side of her bed empty. The familiarity was oddly comfortable. Robert always rose earlier before she did and she had never shared Jamie's bed after their lovemaking because she always had to leave in the morning. It was a trivial thing but right at that moment she wished that for once she could wake up beside someone she loves.

 _And you think it would be someone like Bronn?_ She'd be deadly mistaken.

She lay there with her hands on her stomach and found herself playing with its slight bulge. Covered in thin blankets inside a dingy room with minimal light, it seemed enough to make her feel old. She thought about Margaery Tyrell and how absurdly treasured she was by her mother and grandmother. She thought about that unsettling exchange of looks between her and Bronn days ago. It shouldn't bother her now. As she closed her eyes to clear her mind, her thoughts now turned to Sansa Stark and the look of terror in her face when the axe had fallen on her father's head. Cersei thought of her own father, a great man, and when she opened her eyes, she found them wet.

As she tried to sit up, she didn't even realize that Bronn was back inside the room. He was chewing on a piece of bread as he approached the window to look outside.

"Where were you?" she had to ask.

"Just having a conversation with the landlord." He answered as he swept a glance at her and acted as if he didn't really see her. He seemed to be looking for something outside.

"You can talk to me…" she replied and felt quite stupid about the suggestion afterwards.

"Aye, we can talk." Bronn grinned at her and then sat on the bed, facing her. She had to tuck her legs underneath her. "So…talk."

Cersei wanted to hit him for no reason but she managed to breathe out and say, "Don't ever exclude me from whatever you're planning. You will find that my participation will quicken things."

"Hard to believe. You tend to prolong the agony, as far as I know." Bronn took another bite from the bread and then he placed it back on the tray.

He needs to be proven wrong about that. She doesn't want to talk anymore either. All she wanted to do is to press herself against him or sleep in his arms wrapped around her. She wants to kiss him, to feel every part of him, and to stop thinking about what she had gone through in the last two decades of her life. She just wants to give in to whatever impulse that compels her to seek him out, to embrace the consequences of doing something stupid for once, and to enjoy the weakness it provides. Because the more she wants him, the less miserable she becomes.

He gazed at her with those eyes like he's trying to figure her out piece by piece and it ravished her like nothing she felt with Jamie before. No other man tried to unravel her the way Bronn has been doing since they started this journey. She felt very important and it made her happy.

"Bronn," she pronounced his name like it was the only word she ever wants to say forever. She didn't utter anything else as she leaned closer to him and pressed her forehead against his chest. He hardly moved. She placed her arms around his waist then, settling close enough so she could be comfortable as she embraced him. He still didn't do anything. She understood why.

Once she was resting cozily around him, she looked up at him and smiled. The sudden warmth in her chest gave her enough courage this time. Meanwhile, Bronn gazed down at her and he looked annoyed and bemused at the same time. She closed her eyes and breathed out softly and when she felt his hand cradling the back of her head, she leaned in closer and chuckled to herself.

As she lay in content, eyes still closed, she felt him kiss her after awhile with that awful gentleness that conflicted her again. She kissed him back anyway, and in that brief moment it seemed possible that they were indeed lovers on the run, and no one can harm them or drive a wedge between them. Cersei wants to remember this moment once it's all over, because she knows it will soon end. Things that can never be always do.

"Have I tamed you at last?" he asked. She fluttered her eyes open and smiled at him.

"Perhaps, my lord of Stokeworth," She paused, still holding his gaze. And then she said. "What I said before…I don't want you to think about it like that. I'm not asking you to rescue me. That's not what I need." She adjusted her position and laid her head on his lap now. She thought that this would enable him to say something but he seemed to be waiting patiently for what she has to say next.

"It doesn't have to mean anything," Cersei added.

She could see that he knows that she's lying. He wanted to argue with her, she could also see that, but he opted to maintain his silence. Cersei watched his face for a while before she spoke up again. "It's going to happen and I'd rather it sooner than later. And so do you."

"Aye," he answered. "But it's not a promise or an invitation for anything else."

She nodded, praying he will not reject her this time as she whispered. "Please."

He snorted a laugh, and then he cupped her chin with one hand as he cradled the back of her head with the other. He leaned once more for another kiss. This time she deepened it as hard as she could, and gripped his shoulder as she pushed him back so he could lie on the bed completely.

They're beyond denial now. All her suspicions and his motives won't matter for tonight.

Bronn kept his hands on her hips as she got on top of him. They never broke the kiss the whole time. She savored the taste and sensations of his body, and wished that she could truly own other parts of him as well. He slid his fingers in the strands of her hair as she rubbed a hand against his crotch and enjoyed the way he groaned with the contact. It was all very torturous now.

He quickly adjusted their positions and she ended up beneath him in no time. It should terrify her that he's overpowering her in every single way but when he looks into her eyes like this, there was truly no reason to fear him at all, or hate the fact that she feels young when he's touching her. Bronn didn't look smug anymore as he eagerly pulled her nightgown up her waist. His fingers found her ready before he even started to discover more of her depths. By now he knew just how much pressure to apply. He can now understand what every sound that came out of her meant as he continued to get to know her body better. Cersei helped him out of his own clothes next.

Once their garments were out of the way, they carried on with their exploration in an almost synchronized repose as if they've been doing this dance many times before. As Bronn descended to engulf her void, he also ripped through that soft membrane that divided them for so long. Cersei bled for someone again and it didn't hurt like it was supposed to. She should be very afraid now that he has invaded her spaces at last yet she felt strangely brave. The pulsating heat within her mingled with his rhythm and she hasn't felt this complete since Jamie. She shoved the thoughts of her twin away as she welcomed Bronn through the fractures she could no longer fix.

 _I love you,_ she screamed in her head as she looked back at him. _I want you to love me_.

Right there and then as she reeled him deeper and deeper, Cersei could somehow see that she was also destroying him. His eyes had a new kind of life to them. Her fingers touched his cheek as she looked on. Bronn tried to bury his face on the side of her head but she held him in place, daring him to show her what he's been denying himself. For a moment he looked like he was going to fight back and hurt her but they were heading dangerously close to the edge now and there is simply nowhere to hide. She was able to catch a glimpse of what he truly felt for the very first time and probably for the last. Its ghost clings to her long after he ruptured inside her. He clutched his fingers around her hair while she let out a small cry, gripping his hips with her nails scraping the skin.

Even with the flame between them extinguished, they remained entangled. Their feelings still lingered on the surface, and every bit of any sensation was shared in its aftermath.

 

* * *

 

Just a few walking miles from the inn, Bronn was leaning against an oak tree, waiting for the rider from Highgarden to meet him today as indicated in their last letter. The foliage around him burst out so sharp that he was entirely shrouded by them as he stood there. The sun has only begun to appear in the horizon and it has not reached him yet. This was how a day usually begins for a man of his trade. Bronn kept an eye in the muddy road. He had his hand on his the hilt of his sword, grasping and letting it go in a nervous way that bothered him. He's distracted.

Cersei Lannister has infested his thoughts at this moment, particularly on the events last night. But she was hardly the one to blame for everything. The worst part of it all was his fault. He should have just stayed in Evon's room and fucked her until the morrow. He should have anticipated what was going to happen the moment he walked back in their room; that she would once again lure him into doing something foolish which would then cause irreparable damage to what was already unstable to begin with. Bronn is not the kind of man who would pretend that as situation is not volatile especially when it could endanger his position, and he certainly would not lie to himself like a weakling when faced with a difficult decision.

He kicked some stones underneath his boots as he let out a loud, exasperated sigh. He unclenched his hand from the hilt of his sword and walked a few inches away from the tree so he could get a better view of the dirt road. As he waited for the rider, his thoughts turned inward again and that was starting to get him in a very foul mood. He needed to stay focused, considering the circumstances. He has a job to do and he's paid well for this. Bronn can't lose sight of his goal, and the only purpose why he was in this journey in the first place. If there was anything worth being loyal to and giving all the time and efforts and even his damn life for—it's the promise of gold and rank. These were the only important things he has ever known.

Bronn can hear the hooves before he can even see the horse. He fixed his eyes ahead and in a few minutes saw the rider emerging from the expanse of high grass. Bronn walked right in the middle of the dirt road and stopped there. The rider slowed down a bit, but he still passed by Bronn and made a circle behind the sellsword before he turned his horse around and halted.

"Not used to riding?" Bronn inquired harmlessly as he approached the horse, his hands at his back, never once considering pulling out his sword unless he was certain about the kind of man he'll be dealing with. He placed the rider's age about the same as his and he was a nobleman, judging by the garments. His hair was a mess of light brown curls which Bronn recognized to be an obvious trait of a Tyrell. He stepped back to allow the rider to get off his horse. When he did, Bronn took note that he slightly struggled. He gazed at his leg and surmised that he must have been injured years ago from a battle, and now he hasn't been able to use his legs as well as he used to. He looked at the rider's face. It was stoic and not particularly amiable. He wasted no time with pleasantries and said. "I urge you to speak privately with me, Ser Bronn."

"I talk like drunken tavern girl when I know who I'm speaking to."

"I'm Willas—"

"Aye, brother to the Knight of Flowers," Bronn took a hold of his horse by pulling it by the rope and guiding it to a more secluded corner. Willas Tyrell followed, limping slightly as he walked.

"I'm the eldest son," he spoke. "My association with my brother is of secondary importance."

"And the primary would be?"

"I was tasked to look after Tommen Baratheon in the journey back to King's Landing."

"You'll come with?" Bronn knew he will be accompanied by someone from Highgarden but he did not expect that it would be a Tyrell. "The conditions of travel are not safe, my lord."

"It rarely is, Ser." Willas was too serious to Bronn's liking but the sellsword has always considered himself to be the easiest of men to get along with so he just grinned at the Tyrell lord. The man carried himself with a bearing of a soldier but Bronn cannot say for sure how accurate that would be unless he sees him hold his end with a sword. But judging by that limp, he may have a disadvantage. Bronn tried to foresee how that would play out during an attack by bandits. But it's far too early to make an assessment. _Perhaps I should test him later…_

"I was also made aware of the…exceptional circumstances you're dealing with." Willas Tyrell went on as the two of them stood next to the oak tree where Bronn tied the horse to. "I meant that you are traveling with Cersei Lannister, Tommen's mother." He looked off when he mentioned her.

Bronn found that puzzling but said nothing. "Aye. She's a handful but I've managed."

Willas Tyrell met his eyes. "She is a woman of a certain distinction and should be dealt with fairly, not managed like a pet as you seem to imply, Ser."

"I meant no ill intention," Bronn was trying not to laugh at his face. He paused and then decided to ask right away. "When can we leave to see the boy?"

"That won't do," Willas Tyrell countered. "I will bring the boy to you."

Bronn thought about that. He rubbed the horse by its neck as he spoke. "Today, I hope."

"Yes," Willas Tyrell looked like he was tired of standing because of his injury but he tried to conceal it as he said. "But you and the queen regent will meet us halfway. You will wait for us in the third farm at the end of the last road. I believe you know what I speak of?"

"Aye," Bronn took a peach from his pockets and fed it to the horse.

Willas Tyrell winced and said. "Clerovel only eats apples and oranges, Ser."

"But he likes peaches now." Bronn answered quickly, running his other hand on the horse's mane. Willas Tyrell doesn't seem to welcome that but he didn't speak of his displeasure further. As they stood there for a few seconds of silence, it suddenly occurred to Bronn why Willas Tyrell acted strangely when he mentioned Cersei. He remembered now. Right before they left, the Tyrell women came over to say their goodbyes. He remembered that Cersei proclaimed that as soon as she gets her son back, she will marry Willas Tyrell as offered by Lady Olenna. And now the lord himself may have known about it too. They must have sent him a raven for that very information days ago. And this must be why he personally rode here despite his injury. He wanted to glimpse his future bride. With those thoughts in mind, Bronn snickered. He wasn't sure how else to react to it. Willas Tyrell was still looking at him though, and he didn't look like he appreciated that.

"Is there something amusing, Ser Bronn?" He asked. "Perhaps you would care to share it?"

"Nothing of primary importance," he answered. "Don't concern yourself with that."

"You are not a man of honor for me to trust your word," Willas Tyrell began. "But I suppose if we will travel together then we must maintain courtesies. I find that perfectly acceptable, in spite of the uniqueness of the circumstances," he cleared his throat, a slight blush creeping in his cheeks. Bronn knew that he must be referring to Cersei again and he turned his head slightly to the side so he wouldn't laugh. Willas Tyrell went on, "Also, now that we will have a child with us, it's best that we take more obscure roads, but doing so will also put us in the mercy of tribe folk and thieves."

"Nothing that you and I can't handle ourselves," Bronn grinned.

"The way to Storm's End is treacherous, Ser." Willas Tyrell held his gaze this time.

Bronn did not blink as he stared back. "I always welcome a good exercise."

Willas Tyrell will never approve of him, that much is certain, yet the good lord is brought up to the graces of nobility and can conceal his displeasure of the sellsword well. He gave a small smile now and extended his hand towards Bronn. "Once the sun is at its peak, we will meet again in the location as specified. Give my regards to the queen regent."

Bronn shook the man's hand before Willas Tyrell pulled away first. He reached towards the rope and untied his horse from the tree. Bronn would've helped him but he knows that the lord is too proud to ask for any assistance. It took him a while to climb up but neither man said anything about it.

 

* * *

 

Cersei must be breaking her fast at this time.

He had just gotten back from that interesting meeting with Willas Tyrell and he's quite famished himself. As he crossed the bleak hallway leading to their room, he saw Evon and the girl winced as he approached, as if his very presence burned her. He grinned, not knowing what else to do so he'll be less threatening to her. She couldn't even look at him. As he stood just inches from her, he decided to pose a question. "Got any meat I could chew on?"

Evon kept pulling at the short rag she wore, trying to hide her discomfort by heightening how obvious it was. Bronn found her to be quite an amusing thing. And if she let that yellow hair grow longer, she'll be more pleasant to look at. Unable to keep his hands to himself, Bronn lifted her chin so she could meet his gaze while she stammered. "My s-sisters are in the kitchen, m-milord. Father killed a stag and now they're preparing it." She darted her eyes towards a corner and gulped down.

Her youth makes her so easily frightened and that prompted Bronn to tease her some more. He took his hand off her chin and gripped her by the back of her head now. He bent down and caught her mouth just in time as she gasped. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled her up so he could kiss her harder. She squirmed but didn't struggle. Their tongues flicked over each other for a while before he finally released her. Evon looked up at him, red as a ripe apple.

Bronn chuckled and began to walk away from her as he called out. "Bring the food when it's ready. You have to feed and wash my horse too. We're leaving in the afternoon."

He pushed the door open and paused when he saw Cersei beside the window. She had her legs up the wide ledge and her light green gown glowed gently as it bathed in the sunlight. Her hair looked more exquisite than before with its ringlets framing her cheekbones as the rest of it curled all around her. Nothing about her looks forty years old. Bronn wanted to pinch himself. He has been obsessing about her hair all the damn time now. Gods. Once he realized what he was doing, that was when he also took notice that she was _reading._ "Where'd you got that book?" he asked.

"Our patron was kind enough not to burn this as firewood last night. He must have detected my impatience and boredom and would like to extend his hospitality by offering a gracious remedy." She never once lifted her eyes from what she was reading while she answered him.

Bronn never learned how to read. It was of no use for a man of his trade. But it still piqued his curiosity so he approached her side now, staring at the book she was holding. He wouldn't ask about it though. Cersei glanced at him, inquiring with that irritated look he has grown accustomed to by now.

"We're going," he began. "I met with a rider from Highgarden. He's bringing your boy."

She remained placid with her fingers still touching the edge of a page in her book. She didn't get to flip it though. Cersei placed down the book on her lap and looked off from him. Bronn just knew what's going to happen next, and he had his hand on her shoulder without even thinking about it. The gesture was compassionate and he's not even a compassionate man. But before he could change his mind and remove it, her hand was on top of his now, and their fingers interlaced knowingly. The way her shoulder shook indicated that she was weeping and he wasn't sure if he even wants to share this moment with her. But he didn't dare leave. He isn't that cruel.

Cersei looked up at him at last, and an unmistakable smile filled her face with warmth that Bronn hasn't seen in a woman before. It made him squeeze her hand. It made him want to hold her—the same way he did when she sprained her ankle, and she looked at him with an earnest expectation for something he doesn't have, but he still wants to give her anyway…

The thought was so filthy that it made him let her hand go.

She didn't seem to notice as a new expression darkened her features. Cersei lowered her gaze as if she was ashamed. Bronn couldn't take his eyes off her now. "Do you think…" she began, struggling with the words, "…he even remembers?" Cersei closed her eyes and a tear rolled down her cheek. "Will he come home with me?" She fluttered her eyes open and wiped the rest of the tears.

Bronn grabbed a chair and sat down, facing her. She watched him, her gaze soft.

"I don't know," he answered. "Boys grow up anyway even if you don't raise them. They realize that needing someone to take care of them becomes pointless after a while so they learn to look out for themselves. Now your boy…Tommen—he's surrounded by servants and I'm sure his needs are met but not all needs are about food and shelter all the time." He's not sure how to finish this speech. Besides, sitting this close to her and feeling the weight of her stare makes him feel exposed somehow. So he just added. "If he doesn't need you anymore, it means he's getting tougher and you should count yourself grateful that he won't be a weakling when you're dead and gone."

He expected she would argue, scream and even slap him for being so harsh but she chuckled and smiled at him in a genuine way that…scared him a little.

"You always confirm the worst of my fears, especially when I needed to hear it, and because there's no one else who will," she remarked, as her hand searched for his. He let her take it.

Cersei is looking at him now like she wasn't born a Lannister and he's not a duplicitous killer and a crook—as if all his deceptions are forgiven, and she thinks he's more than worthy of her affections. There was lightness to her that's making him respond like a fool. Does she want him to kiss her? It's either that or they continue to stare at each other like this, as if what happened last night between them was more than a fuck…which it isn't. _It was just a fuck_! Bronn wanted to take out his sword and hack something to pieces just to get rid of this unknowable sensation taking over.

He breathed out and pulled his hand away from her grasp. As soon as he did, he got out of the chair. He meant to storm off somewhere but Cersei was still looking up at him, beautiful as ever, and waiting for that kiss. He could read her so well by now, like that book she was holding earlier.

The heat wasn't in his loins when he leaned down hard on her to claim her mouth. It was coming from somewhere else, twisting his insides and rotting his very core. He was doomed.

 

* * *

* * *

 

She was going to scream it out this time.

Bronn moved above her like he was never going to pull away from her again, and she desired and prayed for something more than passion to hold them together although she knew that the safest thing in the world was for this to end. She used to believe she can own everything and everyone; that she can seduce and conquer anyone by her cunt and weave them under the spell of her family coin. This time she doesn't want to believe she was ever that selfish, not when she has never been more certain in her life that the man she's sharing her bed with at this moment, whose body entwined with hers in their loneliness enshrouded by lust, was the only prize that ever mattered.

As soon as she climbed on top of him, his hands reached for her chest. He clutched her breasts like he was squeezing her heart. Cersei watched him writhe underneath her as she swayed her hips forward to take control of the dance, leading a tempo he was more than able to keep up with. He rose slightly so he could trace his lips on her chest, and with each kiss he created scars across her flesh. Cersei tangled her fingers through his hair while she hastened her movements, and the frenzied rhythm their bodies moved to was almost sure to melt their bones. She became aware of every sound and sensation on her skin, like the sunlight on her face and his shortened breaths. Cersei lowered her hands to his back and dug her nails hard. He gripped her by the hair this time as he burrowed his teeth on the tender spot of her neck and let out a growl that vibrated through her.

She pushed him to lie back on the bed. A few more thrusts and Cersei gripped the sheets around them and looked up at the ceiling, whimpering as the familiar shock of waves flooded her senses. She felt Bronn tighten everywhere beneath her as he groaned and cursed, both his hands on her neck, almost choking her. Cersei immediately collapsed against him, trying to relax the tension in her muscles as her breathing slowed down. She wrapped her arms around his torso and inhaled the mixture of their union that their thighs were still drenched with. His left hand brushed the back of her head in a languid motion, the fingers grazing her scalp pleasantly. She could hear him hum something and if she knew the song, she would have joined him as well.

Cersei has never been this happy. She had learned to make love to a man other than Jamie, and it didn't feel wrong as she was led to believe before. That may not be worth celebrating but seeing her youngest in a few hours certainly is. She should count her blessing, as scarce as they are.

"We should start packing," he said after a while. "There's food too if you're hungry."

"I could use a bath," she suggested. "You should ask for one of the girls to collect water. They have a porcelain tub, you know. How ever could they afford it?"

"Stole, more like it," he answered as he slowly moved underneath her. She let him.

Once he was out of the bed, he grabbed one of the towels from the table and wiped himself with it. She still laid there, one hand at the back of her head, as she watched him.

"What's that look on your face, Your Highness?" he asked although he was grinning himself.

Cersei rolled her eyes at him and pulled a strand of her hair so she could wrap her fingers around it. "It's a look you will not see again if you make the mistake of pointing it out every time you see it." She pulled the sheets close to her and let out a content sigh, closing her eyes.

She heard him chuckle. When she opened her eyes again, he had already pulled up his trousers. She saw him put on his favorite blade on the waistband as well. Cersei found that she enjoyed watching him dress. Every time he puts on a garment, he also conceals another weapon. She counted at least six knives that are hidden on his body by now. He left his sword on the corner of the room though. He nodded at her, giving her a little wink. "See you in a bit, love."

She wanted to throw a pillow at him so he could not see her blush. She turned away instead and hid her smile away from his view as he walked out of the door.

 

* * *

 

As a practical man, Bronn believed he couldmake anything work in his favor. He likes to make most of opportunities. But he has no exact plans for the present circumstances he found himself in with Cersei Lannister this time. He likes her; that he can admit now without wanting to stab himself. It wasn't just because he likes to make fun of her for being privileged and ignorant of the ways of the impoverished. He likes to fuck her again and again for more nights to come, true enough, but he also desires to stay by her side in the morning with his arms wrapped around her as he buries his nose into the perfection of her golden hair. The worst part of it all is that he doesn't think there's anything wrong with these feelings anymore.

All he knows is that Cersei Lannister, even with all her faults, is unmistakably the most remarkable woman he has ever met. And he likes her. It's the most horrible feeling in the world.

But he enjoys it—her company, her wits, even her tempest moods—all of it.

Fuck the gods.

He'd been waiting for an hour outside the inn. Willas Tyrell agreed to meet him in another two hours but he decided to stay outdoors anyway. He didn't want to be around Cersei, fearing he might be unable to separate himself with her from the bed though it was a possibility that he entertained at first. He didn't want to bump into Evon either because he can only deal with one temptation for today. So he thought sitting near the green foliage to enjoy the sunlight is the best option as far as everybody is concerned. It also gave him a chance to sharpen his blades. In doing so, he remembered that time when he and Cersei skinned a goat. He remembered the way the blood enhanced the pallor of her skin. He remembered the night before all that, when she enveloped him in her mouth—

Bronn let out an exasperated sigh, stabbing the ground with one of his smaller blades. He told himself that it was the heat from the sun that's making him sweat right now. It wasn't the memory of the softness in her gaze when she sprained her ankle and how it made him feel like he was the one thing that kept her from falling apart then; or her kiss on the night that followed when she told him that he could aspire to love someone like her. Bronn tried not to think about the way they held hands earlier when they talked about her son and how, for a moment, he wished he had all the answers for her; and that he if he tried, he could prove himself to be more than the kind of man who kills for gold if it means he could allow himself to believe there is a better way belong to her.

"This is a shitty way to spend the day," he muttered, chasing away the stupid thoughts before they persisted in keeping him company. Thoughts like that are counterproductive. Feelings are just as well. But it must come from getting old, he supposed, this desire for less transient things. Bronn knew even as a boy that things end but he also learned that there are a few things that feel like they could last longer than others. He thought (and felt) that it could be that way with Cersei—less transient. But transient things don't mean practical things, and Bronn is nothing if not one to prefer the latter.

He took off his cloak, deciding that all these contemplations will just ruin his concentration on the mission at hand. He made it into a blanket he could lie on, hoping that sleep might freshen him up for another long quest. All thoughts about Cersei Lannister should be set aside because they will only exhaust him. On his back now and staring up the canopy of leaves that served as his shade from the sun, Bronn thought about Margaery Tyrell's offer from days ago before he left King's Landing. It was more than generous but it has risks he's not that confident he can overcome. The Stokeworth estate is not rightfully his but he supposed he can do something about that once he returns. He should focus on putting his child on Lollys first.

 _Be a father_ , Bronn smirked at the thought. He had never fancied himself as one before. He can't deny that there's a certain allure to it, though. He might teach his own little boys to hold a sword someday then put them in charge of the army he's slowly building for himself. Aside from that, even when he was a little boy himself, he liked to look out after his own younger brother and two sisters. Thinking about them made him wistful of the old days. There' a scarcity of pleasant memories in his childhood but he felt lucky enough to remember some of them once in a while.

He closed his eyes and imagined his kin playing along the wheat fields of the village he grew up in on a sunny day like this one, where the wheat stretched for miles and miles from where he lay.

 

* * *


End file.
